#and I just find it interesting how this delves into «what is a god without his worshippers» territory a bit

[age-of-moonknight]

“The Killing of Moon Knight,” Vengeance of the Moon Knight (Vol. 2/2024), #9.

Writer: Jed MacKay; Penciler and Inker: Devmalya Pramanik; Colorist: Rachelle Rosenberg; Letterer: Cory Petit

[silentmoths]

Some HSR Thirsts

Because I've been fucking star-railed this last week and also I promised @dustofthedailylife that I would write a svarog thirst if she finally pulled welt. so since this exists, you can guess what happened!

Svarog/Yaoshi/Kafka x Reader

NSFW, nothing explicit perse but all very heavily implied, Robot/monsterfucking, does fucking a god cound as monsterfucking?, Svarog is a giant vibrator, Yaoshi and their many hands, also Yaoshi having an aphrodesiac venom in their scorpion tail, maybe a little implied dubcon in kafkas case? I dont...think it is but its there as a warning in case.

Ok but Svarog, who definitely knows what sex is, of course he does, he has an entire database to access, and lets face it, this man has probably already accessed it when looking up ‘how to parent’ information because at one point or another he’s going to have to give clara ‘the talk’

(no, we wont talk about how his version of the talk is going to be the most embarrassingly clinical talk ever to exist. rest in peace clara.)

But he does not, for the love of anything, understand why you want to have sex…with him.

Nonetheless, he does not stop your hands roaming his chest plates, he doesn’t really stop you from doing… anything really, because… whatever this is  makes you happy, and that’s all he wants. 

He’s confused when you ask him to touch you, but he does it anyway, all while sifting through his databanks to figure out both why and where. 

This is also the day you discover that Svarog has an… interesting vibration function in his hands that he claims was once for easing stiff muscles of his old human commanders before he was abandoned.

Yeah it’ll sure ease you alright.

Admittedly…he does like watching you squirm…it does… something to his servos.

Though, he thinks he may have created a monster, because now every day, without fail…you’re asking him for a hand. 

Perhaps one day, when he has done enough research…he might just reveal that one…extra modification that had been made to him before everything went to shit.

One day he will allow you to delve below his trousers and maybe one day he will use that…modification, to finally give you what you want, since it seems you’re unwilling to find another mortal to fornicate with.

Besides

perhaps …clara could do with a mother figure around.

----------

Some say the Aeon Yaoshi, of the Abundance, is a cruel and evil creature.

This does not stop you from seeking Their favour.

However when they finally do appear before you, you get so much more.

Six hands, long and delicate, trailing your skin as they pull you close, unearthly voice whispering in your ear, telling you they’ve heard every prayer, every plead and call for them; how they’ve been watching you all this time, and now they have come to bestow the blessing you’ve been seeking.

But only if you can endure one last trial.

In some depictions you had found, Yaoshi is endowed with a scorpion's tail, so it isn’t a shock when the appendage curls around your body, the tip pricking into your thigh. You feel the warmth of the poison spread through your body and you moan for it. Yaoshi only hums their praise 

Their venom makes you feel warm and fuzzy, it makes their touch intense and vivid, most of all…

it makes you want to give yourself over entirely

You feel hands touch places that have never been touched by another, you feel their teeth and their tongue. You hear their praises.

And then you wake, in your bed. 

At first, you think it was a dream, but then you sit up.

You were naked, your muscles ached, but it was a sweet ache, soft around the edges, and there on your thigh, where they had stung you with their venom…

the symbol of abundance

----------

Soft hands, and an even softer voice, leave you weak in the knees.

“Ready to talk yet?” Kafka muses quietly as she presses a single finger to your collarbone, and you immediately fall back against the table, your arms still bound behind your back. 

You should be struggling. You should be fighting back.

But you’d be lying if you said you weren’t incredibly turned on by the stellaron hunter who had kidnapped you, and was now apparently intent on interrogating you.

“You’ll….have to try harder than that.” you rasp, trying to sound intimidating. 

By the way Kafka’s smile widens ever so slightly, it’s failed completely, and you’re once again left reeling as she approaches, leaning over you like a cat who’s just caught their mouse.

“Will I?” her voice is so soft, and yet so very dangerous as her ruby eyes narrow in on your face “My…are we a little smitten? Your face is all red.” 

Goddamn it.

“I’d never-”

“Oh don’t be so dramatic.” She interjects as she perches on the edge of the table beside where you lay, she shoots you a look…an expression you can’t quite discern for a moment, until you realise her own eyes are raking down your body.

hungrily.

You watch her bring her hand to her mouth, teeth closing around the finger of her glove before pulling the offending article off; your heart is jackrabbiting in your chest.

“I think…” she hums as she leans back over you, magenta hair falling between you both like a waterfall. This was dangerous, so very dangerous.

But the moment her hand presses against your belly, and slowly begins its slow gaze downward, pressing shamelessly beneath the waistband of your bottoms? You’re a goner.

“I think I have other ways to make you sing that we’ll both enjoy…don't you think?”

Taglist: @stygianoir @meimeimeirin @ainescribe @dustofthedailylife @rjssierjrie @crystalflygeo @angel-of-requiem @asoulsreverie @zomzomb1e Want to be added to the list? shoot me an ask~

I will be starting a Starrail specific taglist shortly so if you want in on that let me know!

[rodolfoparras]

Ftm or Afab Miguel <3

Workload

Pairing: Ftm! Miguel O’Hara x Top! Male Reader

Synopsis: In which you find ways to spend time with your boyfriend Miguel even though he’s busy with work

Content tags: 18+, MINORS DNI, cockwarming, underwear theft

A/N: pls excuse any mistakes I decided to redo a good chunk of this last minute

It was no secret that your boyfriend Miguel was rather dedicated to work so much so he spent hours cooped up in his make shift office or in other words his platform. You didn’t mind it much because you understood the responsibilities he carried on his shoulders and you tried to give him space to work whenever you sensed that he needed it.

There were days where he barely slept or ate and his only source of light was the one produced by his monitors and that worried you, of course.

But at the end of the day you understood, brought him a take out box of food or a blanket or two, even forced him outside every once a while to get some sunlight.

These past days he’d been glued to his platform, only leaving it to eat and sleep (something you were grateful for) before quickly returning to work, quitely mentioning the words multiverse and workload before disappearing into his world of monitors.

You’d be lying if you said that you didn’t miss him most importantly you’d be lying if you said that you didn’t miss being with him.

It’s been a while since the two of you have properly had sex, having to settle for quickies in the shower to relieve any stress before Miguel had to go back to his work again.

Again, you understood, “multiverse”, “ workload” “grave consequences if it all fell apart”. But God the warmth of your palm was nothing compared to the warmth of his walls as they fluttered around your cock, and you rather have fingers buried inside of him than having them wrapped around your shaft. Not to mention how having his boxers pressed against your mouth is nothing like being buried between his thighs, vigorously eating him out and having him squirt into your mouth.

Eventually you came up with the perfect plan on how to spend some quality time with your wonderful boyfriend without disturbing him while he’s working and you feel your cock twitch inside your pants as you make your way over to his make shift office.

You walk into the room only to be met with the sight of Miguel with multiple screens pulled up in front of him. He must’ve just gotten out of the shower going by the wet curls at the nape of his neck, the way his clothes are sticking to his skin along with the way you can smell his body wash from where you’re standing.

You swiftly make your way over to where he’s standing, arms slinging around his shoulders and face burying in his neck.

“Oh what’s this?” you say to him, as you take a peak at his screen.

He tenses at first but quickly relaxes when he recognizes your touch and your voice.

“Work” he grunts out in a simple reply, still focused on his work

“What kind of work?” you ask, voice just as curios as before and gaze still glued to the monitor.

Miguel turns his head, almost bumps his nose with yours as he meets your smiling face.

No one has ever really taken interest in Miguel’s work before.

Sure everyone knows he’s in charge of the multiverse, but no one’s ever bothered to ask him about the details of it all, settling for only asking a handful of questions if it was a life or death matter.

But you weren’t like any other spiderperson he’d met before, always poking and prodding more than one should but for some reason Miguel didn't seem to be bothered with, matter of fact he was rather intrigued with it.

Miguel turns back to the screens in front of him, and for a moment you only hear the sound of fingers tapping before he speaks

“It’s called web of life.” He starts off slowly, glancing at your face carefully as if expecting you to lose interest any second. But when he notices that he has your full attention he delves into the depth of things.

He talks so fast and animatedly you get a flash of his fangs every time he goes to say something. His hands move so fast you barely catch them as he gestures to the many different screens in front of him and his eyes have this glint in them that you’re sure aren’t solely there for the monitors surrounding him.

You do your best to keep up with him, humming and nodding in the right places, even chirping in with a comment or two when you grasp the concept of something.

Somehow though, it had ended with him seated on your lap, his sweatpants and shirt long discarded on the floor, you with your sweats and boxers pulled down to your knees, and your cock buried deep inside his cunt.

His explanations are disrupted by gasps and shallow breaths as your hand wraps around his neck, fingers just resting there or the way your hands will find his thighs, gently fondling them.

“And this Ah fuck- this is earth 786” he hisses out, eyes squeezing shut, shivers running through his entire body as he reacts to your teasing touch.

And every time he gestured to something you’d suddenly shift in your seat, nudging a sensitive spot inside of him and causing him to tightly clutch onto the monitors in front of him, so much so they threatened to crack under his grip.

“Please I can’t -“ the screens grunt and groans under his grip as his cunt clenches around your dick, desperately searching for any sort of relief.

By the time you’re done teasing him his hair has long dried. The smell of his body wash is replaced with the smell of his arousal. His hand has a stealth grip on your wrist and you see the flash of fang as he pleads of you to “fuck me, fuck me, please”

[blorbocedes]

How did you actually came across the bbc rpf movie? Curious to know

so i use duckduckgo as my phones search engine and i was looking up young lewis and nico for a previous ask (that was about their 2000 karting championship). during that search i came across this picture

I knew that's not young lewis or nico, so it caught my interest. what was even more interesting was when i clicked on the link it takes you to this

and that picture in the preview is nowhere in this article.

i went on google search to find the picture by searching the keywords of the article but it didn't show up on google, which means the DDG version was showing an older cached version of the article

because DDG doesn't have reverse image search, i save the pic and look it up on google. and it had only 2 direct matches a bunch of just kids karting toys ads

the first website linked to this forum. Not super helpful, the person posting thought the unicycling pic and this pic are both baby brocedes. NOT! a real scholar

the twitter link was interesting because it linked directly to a bbc article. but the bbc article didn't exist anymore

but narrowing down the timeline helped! 22nd Nov 2014, a quick google search was Abu Dhabi 2014. and the other reference of bbc. so i went through the archives of blogs that used to be active in 2014 in hopes they posted this, but that was a bust.

then i searched other fan forums with the keywords "bbc" "Hamilton Rosberg" "Abu Dhabi 2014" "children" and came across this Reddit post

child actors!!! that must be it! and a YouTube link, by god I've done it

😐

but i knew the most important part. bbc race intro! that's where it's from!! a lot of dailymotion and vimeo reuploaded old f1 stuff without getting copystriked and armed with my keywords i was going through it

this was uploaded 9 years ago with 1.3k views. but the quality is shit and there is no sound 😬😬 but it's proof the video I'm looking for exists 🥹 and delving down through YouTube's abysmal search

I finally find it. then at 95 views. my white whale

so yeah, that's how i came across the brocedes rpf film lol!

[freaksnvans]

A 30-year-old Christian Fujoshi With a PhD's Thoughts on Team Fortress 2 Shipping.

Here I will be providing my thoughts and opinions on my personal favorite Team Fortress 2 ships. I do not know who will be interested in my speakings, but I am branching out into this beautiful fandom like a great oak tree. Haters can "suck an egg," and I do hope that saying is not an euphemism for anything of the less appropriate variety! Please be ready for a very long and verbose post.

How Did I, freaksnvans, Become Interested in Such a Thing?

An Introduction to Me.

I am indeed a Christian woman, and I self-identify as a Fujoshi. That may seem contradicting, but it is not. I ship the mercenaries from Team Fortress 2 in a good and god-honoring way, and I will not tolerate any negative speak of the Lord in my comments and/or reblogs. As for myself, you may only know me as freaksnvans. I chose that name because My favorite ship, as you may be able to discern from such a screen name, is Trucks n' Vans. The "Freak" part comes from a childhood nickname I was given in elementary school... the Freak. That is very traumatic to me, so I mustn't delve into the details. Moving on.

Where It All Started.

In 2007, I was vaguely interested in the game, having heard whispers of it from sites like YouTube as well as my male classmates. I was Thirteen years old, therefore in middle school. Team Fortress was, without a doubt, popular with middle school aged boys at the time of its release. Being curious as to what the "hype" (am I using this Gen Z slang correctly?) was, I googled Team Fortress 2. I had no, and will still never have any, interest in first-person shooter games. I do not like to kill things. I am a god-honoring woman. However, seeing the image of seven strong and mysterious men, (I am indeed disregarding the Scout, as he is not strong nor is he a man, he is a weak and pathetic boy.) I was indeed intrigued.

I, before then, had minor experiences with fandom spaces, having been interested in Harry Potter at the time. I read fan-fiction occasionally. However, I felt no interest toward fan-fiction and pairings of the homosexual variety. My favorite ship to read fan-fiction of was Dramione. I imagined myself as Hermione. My readings of fan-fiction were in fact very self-serving. I became gradually interested in Team Fortress 2 when the fandom was in its infancy. (If you are wondering as to how I never interacted with the fandom before now, or used "social media," that is because I was not allowed to at such an age, and had a fear of doing so up until adulthood. Please do not shame me.)

Back to the topic of Team Fortress! I began searching for fan art of my favorite characters - which, then, were Medic and Soldier. I longed for the Soldier to hold me in his strong arms. I secretly desired for Medic to perform cruel and unusual acts of surgery upon my body. That is a common sentiment shared upon fans of Medic now, I have found. I thought I was alone!

Anyways... At some point, I began to discover Team Fortress fan-fiction. I was extremely intrigued by my discoveries. I, being a pre-fangirl with no real interest in shipping between the mercenaries yet, read "x reader" fan-fiction. However, the extreme abundance of slash fiction made stories of the homosexual variety completely and utterly unavoidable. I naively decided to read just one story of such a kind. I do believe it was a HeavyMedic fic. It was like a fujosplosion inside my mind. I quickly became hooked on reading M/M Team Fortress fan-fiction, scouring sites such as FFN to find more.

That does seem to be how I became interested in gay pairings in Team Fortress 2.

Ok, then what are your favorites? Stop rambling, woman.

Why would you say that to me? Anyways, over the years, I have been particularly drawn to three different pairings.

the first would of course be Trucks n' Vans.

It may be obvious that is my favorite. Actually, I think I already mentioned that it is, ha ha! Anyways. Trucks n' Vans has captivated me ever since I was a young girl. First of all, Sniper is skinny and mildly pathetic, while Engineer is a beautiful fit man. He is also Southern, which I am too. I became interested in this pairing because I imagined Engineer teaching Sniper the ways of God and life in the South. He would show Sniper the beauty and joy of a good old peach cobbler. Which he clearly needs, because I do have a burning hatred for Australians. Sniper is an exception. Anyways.

I have also found great interest in HeavyMedic.

Of course I have. I was interested in this fandom from the day it was created, you silly goose, of course I love HeavyMedic. They were meant to be. Please don't tell God that I said this but I wish I was between them as they kissed. I am short enough for that, being a meager five-foot-one, and generally petite. Well, um, sorry to cut that short, but I am having an extremely bad nosebleed at the moment. Because I thought too hard about HeavyMedic with me sandwiched int he middle. I may as well complete typing this post up, because it's not that bad, but I may make typos here and there. There is blood on my keyboard. Oh Dear. LOL!

My Other Thoughts.

I do believe that Team Fortress shipping is what made me more tolerant of people leading a homosexual lifestyle. When I see gay people in the streets I no longer recoil in disgust as my parents taught me, but I remember that they are people too. Just like Team Fortress 2 in real life. I did meet lots of gay people in college, when I was learning and working toward my PhD in philosophy. Most of the men there did not interest me, because they looked too much like Scout and not enough like a handsome Soldier.

As detailed in my previous post, there are many people who hold disdain for fangirls, or generally people who ship and read fan-fiction. I did experience some of this in college and high school. In middle school, I was very secretive about my fan-fiction and fandom activities. I didn't even have any online friends. The only people I knew who had any interest in Team Fortress 2 were boys at school, who thought I was a freak of nature for being interested in gay scenarios between the mercenaries. I once had lemonade thrown on my brand-new white pants because I was caught reading a HeavyMedic fan-fiction in class. I wanted to die. Please, Lord, excuse my language...FUCK you, Jared. I have violent fantasies regarding him sometimes. As a result of that, I was called gay pee-girl for the rest of the year. I had to move schools because nobody called me by my name, and I was only known as the gay pee-girl. It was definitely worse than "freak."

That may be it from me today. There's so much blood. I think it is not just a normal nosebleed. Oh goodness

[tarirose]

New Beginnings

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x F! Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Smut, Language, Oral, NSFW 18+

Word Count: 12.6k (I am sorry it’s so long. I was going to do chapters.

Summary: You and Bradley used to date when you were younger. But you left him behind and what you had to start your dream job. Ten years later, you find yourself back home. And Bradley has never let you go and wants you back.

Note: I also might carry this one on, in shorter chapters if people like it. Maybe delve more into seeing what happens between them.

Fightertown, USA was the last place you ever expected to return to. It had been ten years since you were last here. Back then you were a free spirit, young enough to not want to settle down, but old enough to not mess around. A little rebellious, which piqued the interest of a certain man, Bradley Bradshaw. You were both young and fun, took things as they came. And things were great, until the day you suddenly left. Yet here you were, standing in front of the Hard Deck, the last of the sun shining onto your golden colored skin, a short tight black dress hugging your curves. The mid afternoon was already busy and the jukebox was playing 80’s classics. You took a deep breath, squaring your shoulders before opening the door and walking in.

The Hard Deck was full of the typical locals, girls draping over the shoulders of pilots. It was always a fun atmosphere. One that you had always missed. Whilst you loved your new life in Paris, new beginnings, a part of you always wanted to come back to what you called home.

“Y/N?” A voice coming from behind you said in surprise. You turned around from the bar to see one of your oldest friends. Natasha, standing there with a huge grin on her face. “It can’t be you!”

“Natasha!” You said with a smile. Nat set her drink down on the bar before swooping in to pull you into a hug.

“Oh my god! I can’t believe you’re here! It’s been far too long. I thought you moved to Paris?” Nat questioned, grabbing her drink and signalling to Penny for a beer for you.

“Ten years too long?” You joked, bumping your shoulder into hers.

“Yeah! What are you doing back?”

Penny came over and placed two bottles in front of you, as well as two shots of tequila. “It’s good to see you back, Y/N. Have these on me, for a welcome back.”

“Thanks, Penny. It’s great to see you!” You flashed her a smile before turning your attention back to Nat. “I have a shoot here. If you can even believe that. They wanted one in my hometown. So here I am.” You cringed at even saying that out loud, just the thought of being back made your eyes roll. Grabbing your beer and taking a sip.

“That’s great! You look amazing by the way. In case you haven’t noticed, every guys eyes are laid on you.” Nat winked at you before speaking up again. “I’m so proud of you, I know you took a big risk leaving this place and leaving people behind, but you followed your dream and now look at you!”

You clanked your beer bottle into Nat’s and flashed her a wide grin. “Well, I’m glad to see you, I wasn’t exactly expecting to be back here.”

“I’m glad to see you as well, and I’m so glad you’re here. Everyone has missed you, you know? I’m sure they’ll all be eager to see you again. Where are you staying? Didn’t you sell your old place?” Nat asked as she sat down on one of the bar stools.

“Yeah, but I bought that place on the beach, you know the one? Well, I figured I should at least have somewhere to call my own if I ever plan on staying here.” You replied as you gazed over to Maverick who was chatting to Penny from across the bar.

“So, someone is staying longer than expected, any company?” Nat winked at you, throwing her arms out to any pilot that was around without a girl drooling over them.

Rolling your eyes and taking a shot of tequila, you laughed in response. “Honestly, I’ve missed it. I knew how much my mom loved this place, she always wanted a house on the beach. And well… after losing her, it only felt right to eventually come back. Even if the house I bought does have memories attached to it.” You said quietly.

“Yeah.. I’m sorry about your mom. She was so proud of you. And as for the memories of that house, you know he never shut up about you? For years. He still loves you. Don’t be surprised if he’s here tonight.”

“Can we not talk about that.” You quickly responded to her. Not wanting to remember him.

“Yeah. Anyway, you know you’re always welcome here. It will always be home.” Nat said as she laid her hand on top of yours.

“Thank you, Nat. So what about you? You’re a pilot now?” You asked her with a smile.

“Naval Aviator actually. Lieutenant Trace, call sign Phoenix.” She proudly replied back.

A few hours had past by, the pair of you telling each other stories about your job, things you have missed out on, catching up. A few of your old friends had joined. The Hard Deck was now full of off duty pilots. You and Nat were slammed across the bar, but you were both enjoying every minute of it. As you handed a beer to a handsome pilot who had caught your eye and arm, your eyes averted from the pilot to the door, as a familiar figure came walking in. Sunglasses on, denim jeans and a Hawaiian shirt you’d recognise anywhere. You froze immediately as your eyes found Mav’s. He smiled slightly, with a sad but happy feeling gazing back at you. He knew how Bradley still felt about you.

You wanted to catch up with them both, but right now wasn’t the best time for that. Your eyes wandered back to the familiar figure and brought you back to the present. The sound of the piano playing that song you loved, by a man you had once loved. That distinct male voice singing. It was a voice you would never forget, no matter how hard you tried, no matter how much you never wanted to hear it again. You tried to ignore it, turning your attention back to the pilot whose hands were currently on your waist. You could feel a pair of eyes burning into you, even through his sunglasses.

Your turned back towards the piano as the song came to an end. Your gaze meeting the eyes of a man who once owned your heart, and yours his. He had grown gorgeous. His golden skin peaking through his low tank top, the sweat pouring from his face and chest. His lighter colored hair, even grown a moustache that suited him and already had you slightly weak to the knees. He was a different man from the one you fell for. Yet you were also a different woman. He stood up and walked towards the bar. Your gaze returning to the pilot by your side, whispering into your ear. Bradley froze mid step, removing his aviators fully and placing them around his top so that he could get a better look at you. Clenching his jaw and tightening his fists into balls. He looked you up and down. Taking in all your beauty. Feeling a ping of jealousy at the sight of you in a short tight dress and seeing another man’s hands on you. When they should be his.

Leaning on the bar next to you, he signalled Penny for a beer. “Y/N?” He questioned. His dark eyes staring daggers into you and the pilot next you. Turning your head towards him, a thousand memories began flooding your mind of what used to be.

“Hey, Bradley.” You replied with a smile.

This cause Bradley to stagger and go silent for a bit when you said his name. It had been ten years since he had heard that voice say his name. You felt a hand around your waist again and you broke eye contact with Bradley to look at the pilot.

“I’m sorry, can you give us some space?” You asked the pilot, and he nodded in agreement and left you both alone.

Bradley’s throat tightened, you were still as magical and ethereal as you were all them years ago. Clearing his throat before he spoke up again. “What are you doing here? I thought you moved to Paris?”

“I did. I got here a few weeks ago. I have a shoot here, unfortunately.” You admitted. You hated this. Being in front of the man you had walked out on.

“Unfortunately? You aren’t glad to be back?” He asked, his eyebrows furrowing in annoyance.

You sighed and picked up your beer, downing it all wanting this moment to be over. Picking up your purse, you decided the best place to be was home.

“Where are you going?” Bradley asked, grabbing your arm as you got up.

“Home? I’m already tired of this conversation.” You harshly bit back to him.

Bradley stopped and inhaled. “Then let me drive you back.”

“No, I’m good. I don’t think it’s a good idea.” You calmly replied.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not gonna let you walk back alone, come on.”

Opening the passenger door, he helped you get into his Bronco. The same car he had all them years ago “So where are you staying?”

“That beach house. The one we said we were going to buy when we were older. Yeah, that’s mine now.” You said, softly. Feeling like your heart was going to pour out. Reminding you of the conversation the two of you had years ago.

“Ah. I see.” The drive was silent. An uncomfortable silence. Every now and then, you could feel Bradley staring in your direction. He wanted to reach over, rest his hand on your thigh like he always used to. Pulling into your driveway, you quickly gathered your things and made your way to the door. Bradley rushed out, running up to you. “Wait! Can we talk?”

You sighed, and let out a deep breath. Turning to face him. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

He was now stood in front of you, towering over you, even in heels. His face was inches away from yours. Feeling his breath so close. His cologne filling your nostrils with every breath you took. You inhaled his scent and looked up to him.

“Please.. I’ve waited ten fucking years to talk to you. I’m not going to waste this opportunity. Now I know you’re back home.. I won’t..” He shook his head, meeting your gaze. He struggled to get out what he wanted to say, desperately wanting to pull you into his chest and hold you – hating how angry and upset he was at you. “Y/N, I was so in love with you, I was head over heels for you. And you just left me, left what we had. Like it was all nothing to you! Like I meant nothing to you! You broke my fucking heart! Left me wondering what I did wrong. Where I went wrong. If there was something wrong with me.”

Tears began steaming down his face as he stuttered the last words out. You dropped your eyes to the floor. Guilt ridden and in a situation you never thought you would ever be in again.

“Fuck!” His voice cracked as he rubbed his face free of tears.

You turned to your front door, fumbling with the key in the lock before you unlocked it. “Come in, we’ll talk inside.” You motioned for him to enter first.

He stopped in your living room, taking in the view of the house you were going to share together. “How long have you owned this?” His eyes diverting to one certain picture of you in Paris, for your first shoot. You looked gorgeous, and so happy.

“Awhile. I bought it after mom passed. But just never actually returned here until recently.”

“I’m sorry, baby.” He quietly said, not wanting to push the conversation further until you were ready.

You sighed, running your hand through your hair. “Drink?”

He nodded, and you made your way into the kitchen, collecting a tumblr of whiskey and two glasses. You wandered back into the living room, watching him fall onto your couch, his muscular arm draping over the back of it. “You didn’t answer me before.” He accepted the glass and took a sip.

“I didn’t realise it was a question.” You took a seat next to him and sighed loudly, downing your drink all in one.

“It wasn’t. But I think I deserve to know.” He eased himself more into the couch, rubbing his face.

You took a deep breath. “You did nothing wrong. You will never know how much I regretted walking away from you, how much I hurt you. It hurt me just as much you know? It took everything in me to just leave.”

“Then why the fuck did you not even bother to reply to me? I sent so many texts, you never answered my calls. I even went as far as emailing you! I made myself look stupid, everyday for years and never got a reply. I just wanted to know how you were. Yet you just forgot about me.”

You tilted your head back into the couch, rubbing your forehead.

“Why?! Did I really mean nothing to you?!”

“Stop saying that!” You angrily shot back, lifting your head to meet his gaze.

“Then tell me!”

“God damn it, Bradley! I blocked you! It hurt too much seeing you keep pop up on my phone, so I thought it would have been easier for both of us if we didn’t have any means of contact.” You admitted.

His eyes dropping away from yours, smoothing down his moustache and running his free hand through his hair. “Maybe for you, but it made me look desperate. Or maybe I was just desperate to hear from you, to get your attention, and having you back.”

You set your glass down, groaning a displeased noise and you stood up. “Maybe you should g-“

“I’ve missed you, darling.” He interrupted you, towering his full height over you, taking your chin in his hand. “You didn’t have to push me away like that, I told you I’d always be here for you. Or was that all bullshit to you?”

“Can you stop doubting how I felt for you. Yes I loved you. Yes I missed you, more than you will ever realise. Like I said, I regretted it the moment I left. But it was for the best. We had different paths. You wouldn’t of left behind your life and dreams to come to a new part of the world with me.” You replied, tilting your head up to look him in the eyes.

“I would of followed you anywhere, sweet girl. If it meant being with you. But you never gave me the chance.”

“Well we both know that isn’t true.”

“You know I had to resist the temptation to fly over there and see how you were doing? It was only because of Nat and Mav who told me to let you go. But I couldn’t. I’ve never been able to get over you.”

Falling into an array of silence, his heart broke at every word you had told him. Losing his own parents, he knew the grief you were going through. Yet he never knew the things you went through, and certainly didn’t want to push any sort of conversation onto you. Apart of him wanted to take you in his arms, and make sure you forgot every bad thing that has happened to you in your life since leaving. It killed him to know that you also suffered the same grief. Not only that, but knowing all this time, that you regretted leaving him.

He spoke up, breaking the silence between you two. “You look beautiful. I mean, you always have been. But my god, baby, you’re unreal.” Rubbing his thumb over your cheek, whilst still holding your chin in his hand.

The corners of your mouth slightly raising up, letting a small laugh out. “You don’t look bad either, Bradley. The new stache suits you well.”

“I don’t want to leave. Please don’t make me leave.” Bradley said, as he lifted his hands to cradle your face.

“Bradley.. This isn’t how we should do this. Things have changed.” You begged, your own hands clinging onto his shirt.

“What’s changed, baby?” He whispered relatively close to your ear, his breath hitching a soft spot under your ear. He knew every nuance of your body, he knew how to get you started with just a slight touch or breath. He gripped your hand and brought it up to his lips, the bristle of his moustache tickling you as he placed a tender sweet kiss to your knuckle.

You removed yourself from his grip, not wanting to fall into this new charm of his. “We shouldn’t.”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Can we talk another day then? I’m not going to let you get away this time.”

“Well, fortunately for you, I’m here for awhile.” You replied back, taking a step back.

“Let me take you out then? Properly. Unless that guy from the bar has your attention?”

You laughed at his question and stood silently for awhile, admiring the man in front of you. Thinking long and hard about an answer. Which made Bradley nervous. Was he about to be let down again? Were you already seeing someone?

“Okay.” Was all you could reply, not wanting to entertain his jealously.

“Then you need to unblock my number, ma’am.” He joked, which resulted in you rolling your eyes at him. “Please don’t leave this time.”

He took your hand one last time for the night, placing another kiss to your knuckles before turning around and making his way back home.

You made your way to bed after your shower. Fluffing up your pillow, you flopped onto the bed turning to your side, wondering if it was a good idea that you made Bradley leave. Or should you of let him stay the night? Let out all of your frustration and hurt on each other’s bodies? You shook away all the thoughts and looked over to your phone to see that Nat had messaged you.

Nat: How are things? I saw you leave with Rooster? Have you two made up and fucking each other’s brains out?

You: Haha, very funny. Rooster? And no, I told him to leave actually.

Nat: Rooster is his call sign, but I’m sure he’ll tell you all about it. If you let him.

You: Maybe. But it’s all too much. Is it?

Nat: Babe, you know he’s deeply in love with you, always has been. He would pester me most days asking if I’ve heard from you. Give him a chance, he’s a good guy, and he’s missed you terribly..

You: I’ve only just gotten back, and he’s quickly entered my life again. I just don’t know how to feel.

Nat: Just give it time, take it slow. It’s been ten years. You guys just need to start again and talk about things.

You: We’ll see how it goes. But I’m not promising anything.

Nat: Do you still love him?

You: I don’t know. I tried so hard to get over him. And I did. And now he’s back.

Nat: Try and get some sleep, and see how you feel about it all. Just… don’t break his heart again. You’ve both been through so much.

Sleep didn’t come easy that night. You couldn’t stop replaying the moments from last night. You were sat wide awake questioning everything you ever had with Bradley. Every memory you cherished together, all the future plans you talked about. Everything came flooding your mind at once, making it impossible to sleep.

You managed to roll out of bed and have a shower, freshening yourself up from the hangover that was currently residing over you. Throwing on a baggy tee and rolling your hair into curlers to air dry. You checked your phone to see that poor Bradley had been messaging you, and was left wondering if you were going to leave him again without a word.

Bradley: I see my messages still aren’t going through.. I guess that means I’m still blocked.

You: I’m sorry. I just showered and went to sleep after you left.

Bradley: I’m sorry if last night was too much. Can I come see you?

You: Sure… I’m free later?

Bradley: Perfect! I’ll be around about 6? Is that alright?

You: Sounds good. I’ll see you later.

Bradley: I can’t wait x

You kept yourself busy most of the day, and now it was approaching 6pm, knowing that Bradley would most likely arrive early. You opted to wear something casual, a graphic cropped tee and some tight dark jeans. Just when you were finishing off your hair, you heard a knock on your front door. Making sure you looked good, you made your way over to the door. And there he was. One arm leaning against the doorframe, the other behind his back. A shy but sincerely happy smile creeping onto his tanned face. A well pressed black tee clinging tightly to his body, and jeans that hugged his thighs perfectly. His cologne instantly making your head go crazy.

“Hello, gorgeous.” He said warmly, taking his hand from the doorway and placing a gentle kiss to your cheek.

The apples of your cheek immediately flushed from this sudden affection. “Hey.”

“How you always manage to look sexy even in casual clothes always blows my mind.” He laughed whilst admiring every part of you from where he was standing. “Sorry, I got these for you.” He removed his hands from behind his back, handing you a dozen beautiful red roses.

“Bradley… you didn’t have to.”

“No. But I know you always liked flowers, and I’ve gotta try and impress you again somehow right?” He said, rubbing the back of his neck. He was nervous. The usual Bradley Bradshaw you knew was always a confident guy. This guy, was new to you.

This was different, and it drew you in even more than you wanted. He was incredibly gorgeous, you knew he was always good looking, but now, all these years later. You couldn’t keep your eyes off him. His sun kissed skin, those hazel colored eyes staring deep into your own. How much lighter his hair was, the way his clothes hung to him. And of course, his body was so much more defined and muscular. He was perfect.

Getting your head out of the gutter, you quickly snapped out the thoughts of him. “Come in.” You took the flowers from his hand and guided him into where he had just been last night.

You made your way into the kitchen, to vase the roses he had given you. Making your way back into the living room, Bradley was already nursing himself a glass of whiskey. Placing the roses on the coffee table, you poured yourself a glass and sat down next to him.

The two of you talked for a few hours about how your lives turned out, you told him all about your job, the places it took you, he told you all about how he became a Naval Aviator, all about Top Gun and all of his missions.

“You know, I didn’t imagine this would ever happen. I always dreamed it would, but I never thought I’d ever be sitting here with you again.” He admitted, bringing the glass to his lips.

“Yeah well… I didn’t exactly expect this to happen either.”

“Did you ever think about me?”

Your silence told him everything, and he hung his head low. “Was there someone else?” He asked anxiously. Fearing for a reply he didn’t want to hear.

“No. There was no one else.. and yes, I thought about you a lot. That’s why I found it so hard to block you.” You replied, putting his mind at ease as his gaze met yours again. “Honestly Bradley, I’d rather not talk about the past. Because in truth, I missed you so much, and no one else has ever loved me the way you did.” You admitted, resting your legs onto his lap. “I was foolish for ever leaving you. What I did wasn’t right. I left you without a heads up and I’m sorry.”

Bradley sighed, his hand resting on your thigh, kneading into your skin. He huffed out a slight chuckle, “Yeah.. ten years wasted, darling.” He fell silent for awhile. “You know I’ve always loved you. There wasn’t a day that went by where I didn’t think of you. Everyday I wondered how you were, what you were doing, how your job was going. I even asked Nat about you, as I knew the two of you kept in contact.”

“I know. She said.”

“Of course she did.” He sighed again. Reaching out closer to you, moving a stray of hair from your face. “Have I told you how beautiful you are?”

His hands still lingering on your face, you felt a blush creep onto your cheeks. “A few times.”

“Well, I’ll remind you a million times, just to see that pretty smile I fell so much for.” His hand now cupping your cheek, rubbing his thumb over the softness of your skin. “God. I still remember the day I first saw you. At that shitty party, those high raised shorts and your cowboy boots.” He snorted trying to picture you in that same outfit now. “And gods, that smile, when I made my way over to you and asked for you name.” He swallowed hard. “You instantly had me wrapped around your finger. And even then you played hard to get and made me work hard for a date with you. I should of known you were going to be trouble from that moment.” He chuckled quietly, gazing lovingly into your eyes.

“Uh huh, but you got the date, did you not? You obviously did something right.” You playfully slapped his arm.

“Fuck yeah, I got you. That was the best move of my life.” He told you, softly.

His eyes searched for yours, desperately wanting to touch you, hold you, have your body close to his. You gently reached for his hand, tracing over his palms. “I am sorry. I should of contacted you. I was only thinking about myself and my future.” You finally admitted.

He sighed and shook his head, intertwining his fingers with your own. “Don’t be. I should have been proud of you for following your dreams. Who was I to stop you from doing that?”

“So.. Lieutenant Bradshaw.” This one sentence made his cheeks heat up rapidly, and felt his cock go hard. Why did that turn him on so much? Coming from you, it was so sexy. “Do I call you Roost? Rooster?”

“You can call me anything you want, darling.” He licked his lips, staring at you intensely which only made you grow hot under his gaze.

Grinning widely, you snuck closer to him. His arm that was spread out behind the couch was now resting on your shoulder. “Fuck, what do you do to be, baby?” He asked, as he took your chin in his palm. Your faces now inches apart from each other, so close… your lips slightly parted, desperate to be kissed. “How is it just seeing you drives me crazy all over again.” His voice was low and raspy, but he couldn’t stop himself from speaking the truth. You didn’t break his gaze, instead opting to rest your hand on his thigh. Bradley could feel himself sweating profoundly to where your hand was heading.

“Fuck this..” he whispered against your skin, grasping your face tenderly. His lips feeling hot against your own. He drew you closer to him, his strong hands resting on your waist, pulling you onto his lap. Deepening the kiss that was already so needy. “Tell me you want this as much as I do, otherwise I won’t stop.” He asked you, taking a hand from your waist and running it through your hair, as his lips were back on yours.

Gasping into his mouth, you pulled back, knowing that if it carried on much longer, you both wouldn’t be able to control it.

“What’s wrong sweetheart? Did I go to far?” Bradley asked nervously.

You chuckled softly, readjusting your hair. “No, but maybe ask a girl out for dinner first before you try and bed her.” You mischievously winked at him and smiled into his mouth.

“You really are going to be the death of me, you know that right? And I did ask you last night.”

“Not properly though.”

“Alright.” He cleared his throat, “Will you go on a date with me?” He warmly smiled at you, his hands kneading into the bare skin on your waist.

“Hm, I’ll have to check my calendar, see if I’m available from all my other dates.” You joked.

He gripped tighter into your waist, causing you to jolt in your spot. “Oh yeah? Go on a lot of dates do you? Although I think you should prioritise our date first, babygirl.”

“Mhm, and why’s that?” Your hands finding their way into his curls and gripping tightly, making his head jerk back.

Bradley loved this new dominant side of you. Not afraid to show you how hard he was under the tightness of his jeans, as he grinded you against him. “Because you know I’ll make it worth your time, baby.” His lips turning into a wicked grin. He was falling apart under you.

Your hands moving down to clutch onto the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer to your face. “We’ll see about that, won’t we?” Removing yourself from his lap slowly. He shook his head, letting out a raspy scoff.

“You’re impossible. Is that a yes?”

“Well, it’s not a no, sir.”

This made Bradley lose his damn mind. He just wanted to take you here and now, and show you what you’ve been missing out on.

“Where?” You stood up with your back facing him, flicking your hair back.

He bit down on his knuckle, taking in the form of your body in front of him. Your ass looked so damn good and perky and he just want to squeeze it. “Let me sort that, all you have to do is make yourself look sexy, as always.”

“Deal.”

In truth, Bradley hadn’t been on a date in years. He tried, wanting to get over you somehow. But each date was a fail. He didn’t enjoy any of them. Because in the end, nothing ever felt right to him. Sure, he occasionally had a girl over, but that’s all it ever was. A one night stand. No one had ever caught his eye like you had. And if it wasn’t going to be you, then he didn’t want to settle with anyone else.

“Then I’ll let you know when and what time, darling.”

You nodded in agreement, with a very flirtatious smile. This only made his palms sweat more, and his heart was fucking racing. He grinned as he stood up, his hands finding the curve of your back, rubbing smooth circles in a spot he knew you liked. “See me out?”

He took your hand and linked your fingers with his as you led him to the door, he pulled you close to him. “I’m never letting you leave again.” He inhaled deeply and kissed you again, this time more soft and passionate. How was this man able to make your knees want to collapse from under you?

“Then you’ll have to try hard to make me stay, Rooster.” You replied.

Squinting his eyes, breathing into your mouth. “Oh baby, I promise, you’ll be staying this time.”

Pressing yourself fully into his chest, you whispered enough for him to be able to hear you, “Cocky, I like it. You’re pushing your way to the top of my dates.”

Shaking his head, “I’ll make it perfect.” He kissed you again. “I meant everything I said. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. I’d be stupid to let you go again.”

“Then don’t.”

He smiled softly, grazing his hands across your cheek, he could feel all the blood rushing from his body. Was this a dream? He had you back in his life and he was a nervous wreck. Scared of fucking it all up and losing you all over again. “God, you make it hard for a man to leave.” He teased, kissing you one final time before pulling away. Knowing himself that he would lose himself fully to you if he stayed.

“Goodnight, beautiful.” Bringing your hand to his lips, placing that ever so gentle kiss to your fingers.

“Goodnight, Lieutenant.” You said boldly, making your way back inside, shutting the door behind you and sighing. Running your hands through your hair. You stumbled back into the living room, pouring yourself another glass of whiskey before throwing yourself onto the couch where he had just been. A million thoughts running through your mind of what just happened.

Nat had texted you a few days later, telling you to get your ass to the Hard Deck tonight with some of the girls. She wanted to know all the gossip between you and Rooster. You had been texting him back and fourth since you last saw him. And there still wasn’t any valid communication of when this ‘date’ was going to happen. You sighed, zipping up your dress and putting on your black boots heels. Overdosing yourself in your favorite perfume.

Nat: Just so you know, lover boy is here.

The Hard Deck was already over flooded with people, music bustling through the crowd. You spotted the girls over near the pool table, with a few guys hanging around them. Typical, you thought, as you made your way over to the bar.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing around here?” A voice asked from beside you. His fingers grazing over your wrist. “Let me buy you a drink, gorgeous.”

Turning to look at the stranger beside you, sure he was good looking. But you simply replied with a “no thanks.” Moving past him to the other side of the bar. Of course, Bradley had his eyes on you from the moment you walked in. A part of him wanted to see what you would do. If you would entertain and pursue this guy. But the other part was seething with rage.

“Come on, you’re gonna turn down a free drink? Why don’t we go somewhere mo-“

“Penny, two beers here, please.” Bradley wandered over, tapping his fingers on the bar, hovering next to you. His body heat was radiating in close proximity to you. His cologne overwhelmed you and instantly making your knees want to buckle under you.

“Come on, baby. Let’s go somewhere else.” The man was a drunken mess, moving his hands lower down to reach your ass.

Bradley quickly snatched his hands away. “Touch her again pal, and me and you will be outside. Now fuck off.” He moved his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him. “I don’t like sharing what’s mine.” He squared his eyes, watching the man walk away.

“Oh, I’m yours? Since when? I didn’t realise I was.” You replied back sarcastically.

“No. But you soon will be. You look incredible. Although that dress would look better on my bedroom floor.” He placed a kiss on top of your hair, knowing the two of you were being watched. You pulled away, a grin plastered across his face. He knew what he was doing. He wanted everyone in here to know that you were off limits. He was possessive of what was his.

“Aren’t you forgetting something? You asked.

“I’d never forget our date. Don’t worry, I have it all planned, just one more thing to sort and then you’re all mine.” He replied, squeezing your waist tighter.

“Thanks for the beer, baby.” You winked, leaving him breathless as you walked away from him, flicking your hair behind you.

You caught Nat’s eyes and she motioned for you to come over. She pulled you into a warm hug. “You’ve made a complete mess of him, you know?” She whispered quietly in your ear, watching him at the bar, his eyes not once letting you out of his sight. “The minute you walked in, he was drooling over you. He’s obsessed. And when that guys hands were on you, well… he looked ready to kill him.”

You just had to laugh, pulling away from her embrace and looking over your shoulder to see Bradley’s eyes staring deep into you. Sending him a quick smile.

“So what happened? Did you make up. Have you slept with him yet?” Nat asked, patiently waiting for your answer.

“No, we haven’t slept together.”

“Yet.” Nat quickly jumped in, snickering a laugh as she looked over to Bradley and then back to you.

“We just talked. And kissed. It’s been ten years, I’m not about to just hop straight back into his pants.”

“Oh but you will. I know you guys have genuine feelings for each other, or well… maybe him more than you. Which is something he probably fears. But, take it easy on him, when you left, he was different. Just a shell of who he used to be. And now you’re back, well just look at him. He’s absolutely smitten over you. You know more than anyone that he’s a good guy. He’s never once hurt you, he wont ever hurt you. You two are made for each other. Always have been. Everyone knows that.” She turned her face towards the bar, nodding in his direction.

“You need to shoot your shot, man.” Jake muttered, silently watching you drunkenly dance around. “That girl will quickly have someone to bed if you don’t take that chance to do something.”

“Shut up, Hangman.” Bradley hissed, smoothing down his moustache. He knew he was right though. If he didn’t do something soon, you would easily be swooped up.

“Just saying, she’s a sight for sore eyes.” Jake shrugged, leaving Bradley to bask in his own head, beer paused at his lips. His gaze never faltered from you.

“Last call?” Nat asked.

“No, I’m gonna head back. I’ve reached my limit and I have my shoot in the morning.”

“Are you gonna be alright getting back?” She asked worryingly.

“Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.” You reassured her.

You grabbed your purse and began making your way outside, until Bradley caught your arm. “Let me take you home. You know I don’t like you walking back on your own.” He pleaded with you.

Closing your eyes, your body suddenly heating up from the idea of drunken sex with your ex, you nodded. His fingers locking with yours as he led you to his Bronco. He prompted you into the passenger seat, leaning over to fasten your seatbelt. Fuck, he was so close. And he smelled divine. Watching as he got into the drivers side, biting the inside of your cheek watching how one of his hands rested on your thigh. A smug pleased grin sitting on his face as he drove you back home.

Pulling into your driveway, turning the engine off, he turned to face you. His hazel eyes peering across from you. “Fuck, baby. I don’t know how much more of this I can handle. Watching you tonight, it’s fucking torture… Tell me you want this too? And I’m not just going insane.” He sighed deeply, rubbing his hands over his face.

Grinning, you got out of the passenger side and started heading towards the door. “Are you coming?” You asked.

“Fuck yes.” His eyes drifted up and down your body, taking in the sight of that dress sitting tightly around your curves. Hopping quickly out of his car, he ran over to you and blindly followed you into your home. Closing the door behind him, he eased you back against the wall, his hands running down your sides and gripping the curve of your ass. A surprised noise left your throat. His lips finally landed on yours, his tongue pushing its way past your own, savouring all the taste of you. His large hands finding the back of your head, as they tangled themselves in your hair. The gentle pull of his fingers slightly forcing your head to tilt back, roped another surprised gasp escaping your parted lips.

Your hands grazing over the ripples of his shirt, hastily lifting the hem of it up to trace your fingers over the smoothness of his abdomen. He sucked in a deep breath, pushing himself closer towards you, moving his thigh to be pressed between your legs. He used a free strong hand to pin your own hands above your head. Leaning back down to kiss you deeply, tongues intertwining. It was messy, and so desperate. His hands bunched at the bottom of your dress, tugging at it for your approval. Not wanting to push any boundaries onto you if that’s not what you wanted.

“Don’t stop.” Your voice was needy as your teeth bit down into his bottom lip. Causing a grown to escape his own mouth. At this point, you had completely given in to him. “I need you.”

That was all Bradley needed to hear. Using his hands, he lifted you up wrapping your legs around his waist, carrying you to your bedroom. His hands gripped tightly around your thighs, he dropped you gently onto the bed under him, before he climbed over you. His height towering you. God, he was gorgeous. He lifted your legs around him, as he pushed further into you, bringing your bodies even closer. You could feel how hard he was under his jeans. He wasn’t shy to show you how you made him feel. But you both wanted more, to feel each other’s skin on each other. “Fuck, baby. You’re driving me wild.”

You couldn’t let go of each other, even if you tried. His hands began wandering over your body, slowly lifting your dress up, gripping his fingers into your hips. His fingers gliding over your soft, warm skin. He grabbed your chin, tilting your head to the side as he buried his mouth into your neck. Kissing you all along your jaw, down to your neck and then back to your lips. He deepened the kiss, moving hungrily against your own, flicking his tongue around yours. Biting down on your bottom lip, you pushed your hips up closer to his thigh. The dampness between your legs was becoming insufferable. You reached up and began pulling his shirt over his head. You were even more desperate, using your hands to start unbuckling his belt.

He chuckled and pushed you back down onto the bed. “That can wait, I gotta make sure my baby comes first.” He unzipped your dress and pulled it down, throwing it down to the ground. Taking a step back, he sat up for a moment, taking in the sight of you. “My god, you’ve been naked this whole time under that dress?! Fuck… you’re so fucking beautiful.” He mused, licking his lips.

Before you even realised, his warm mouth was wrapped around your breast, flicking and circling around your nipple, whilst caressing the other one with his hand. A high pitched moan coming from the root of your throat, you felt him smile against you. A pleasing noise he enjoyed hearing. The heat in your gut causing an impossible ache that just needed to be relieved.

His fingers gliding down your body, until he was at your core. “Damn, baby. All wet for me? Good girl.” He says against your lips. Gently rubbing and circling around your clit, his mouth moving back down to pay attention to your nipples. My god, this man knew how to work your body.

He continued the motion, slowly sliding a finger in, whilst using his thumb to rub circles over your slick folds. Finding the right pace of movement, he slid another finger in, fastening the pace. You were writhing under him, completely lost to the sensation. He closed his eyes, bringing his head down lower back into your neck, finding that one sensitive spot that he knows how much you like. You let out a breathless moan, as your hands gripped into his hair. “I wanna feel you on me.”

“As you wish, babygirl.” He removed his fingers, moving his hands up and down your thighs, lifting them over his shoulders, placing kisses all along them as he lowered his head between your legs. The sweet friction of his moustache against you. The feeling of his hot, wet mouth buried into your clit. Sucking and pulling at your folds, he then drags his tongue in a perfectly fast motion deep around you. Your fingers once again winding into his hair, pushing him more into you.

“Fuck! Bradley, you’re so good.” You moaned out, feeling a wave of emotion rush over you.

He teased you more, his eyes never leaving your own, intensely watching how you react to him with so much lust. He could feel your body reacting to him, the arch of your back and the way you couldn’t keep still, it sent him over the top. He continued to bury himself more into you until you could no longer take it. You called out his name, in a way he would describe as ‘angelic’ before feeling your release come washing over you.

“You liked that, baby?” He asked, licking his lips tasting all of you on him.

Without a word, you pushed him onto his back, gripping at his jeans and unbuckling them so fast. His underwear was gone in an instant. You smiled to yourself, taking in the sight of him now under you. “I almost forgot how big you were.”

He watched you as you placed yourself over him, grinding yourself over his hard cock. “Fuck, you’re perfect.”

The alcohol was burning out of your system by now, as you were nearly fully sober. This was definitely something you would remember in the morning. Bradley threw his head down as you lined his cock to your entrance and slowly lowered yourself onto him. Each tantalising inch stretching your walls just enough. You both groaned out loud as you sunk yourself fully onto him. He looked up at your face, sweat beading down his eyebrows and along his chest. His hands grabbed onto your waist as you guided him into a rhythm. God, you were so good at riding him. He wouldn’t last long if you kept this up.

His hips rocked into you as he matched your rhythm, pounding more and more into you. Moving a hand from your waist, he reached up to your neck, gently grabbing with enough pressure. A sweet cry leaving your mouth with each and every thrust he was doing. He looked up at you, a grin on his face. The sight of you bouncing on his cock was something he could never tire of. And he only wanted more.

The more he picked up his speed, the more he could feel you tightening around him. He released his hand from your neck and placed both of them on either side of your face. Pulling you down closer to him. Faces inches away from each other. Both breathing heavily as you panted into his mouth. Each groan, each whine, every sound coming from your lips only drove his hips to delve deeper into you.

The heat in your core pooled until you reached your limit. A relief rushing over you. “Cum for me, baby.” Bradley captured your lips ever so slightly, enough that you screamed out your moan into his mouth. You rippled around him, and your own orgasm was enough to bring him to his end. A few final thrusts into you, he pulled you tighter to him as he spilled himself all over you. His hot, heavy breath right in your ear.

He pulled you closer to him, breathing into your hair, taking in your scent. Running his hands over your body. “Told you I’d make it worth your time.” He kissed your forehead, resting one of his hands on the curve of your back. His large palm pressing up and down your spine. He dragged your leg over his hip, bringing your bodies ever closer together. “God, I’ve missed this. Not just the sex, but this. Having you in my arms, so close.”

Taking a deep breath in, “No one has ever loved me like you. I’ve missed you too.” You said softly. “After mom passed, I thought about… well, all I wanted was for you to hold me. Tell me everything was going to be alright. I was gonna fly back out, come home and see you.. but the thought of it was too much.”

“Oh, darling. We’re here now. And I’m not letting you go. I promise. After losing both of my parents, all I wanted was to find someone in this life the way they did. They were so happy together, and I know they would of wanted the same for me. You made me happy. There wasn’t a day that went by where you didn’t put a smile on my face. And losing you was the worst thing I’ve experienced since losing mom. I felt like my life just meant nothing anymore. I lost everyone I loved. And it distracted me in my flying. It took me a long time to realise I asked too much of you. If I could go back and take things as they came, fuck… I would.” Swallowing hard, he continued, “I planned my life with you, this house, a family. Then it was gone. And a part of me always wondered if I pushed you too far. Ten years that has stuck with me.”

You heart yearned for him as he poured his heart out to you. “We’re older now, things have changed. We’re not the same people as we were back then.”

“True, but that doesn’t change how I feel about you. I don’t want to rush anything, but just know I want this. I want us again.” He sighed. “I am so in love with you. I always have been. I’ll wait for you always.” He admitted.

“Then how about we start with this date?” You chuckled, trying to lift the mood.

He gently cupped your cheek, moving a stray of hair that had fallen onto your face. “Sounds perfect. Friday, at about 7pm? That sound good to you?”

“I can’t wait.” You pulled him into a kiss, looking over at your alarm clock, realising that you had to be up in a few hours for your shoot. “Shit! I have my shoot today.”

“I guess that’s my cue to leave?” He smiled lightly.

“I’m sorry…”

“It’s fine, I know this is important to you.” He helped you to your feet and stood up himself. Stepping away, he buckled his jeans back up and grabbed his shirt, whipping it over his head, messing up his golden locks even more. He looked so fucking sexy, looking so unruly. As handsome as Bradley was always looking preem and proper, his messy hair had you feeling ways you never thought you’d feel again for him.

Moving yourself in front of him, standing on your tiptoes to try and reach his height, you kissed him deeply. Hoping that it would show how sorry you were about cutting this short. He wrapped you up into his strong arms, lips moving greedily against yours, his palms grasping into your ass, giving it a playful slap, the other hand holding you tightly to him around the waist.

You pulled away from him, but still close enough so that his breath was hitching on your skin. “You’ll see me soon.”

“I’ll be counting down the days. Get some sleep, baby.” He pulled you in again, leaning into your hair to place a tender kiss to your hair. “Goodnight, beautiful.” He said as he made his way out of your house.

Falling back into your bed, feeling empty without him in it. Tugging the pillow he had been laying on close to you as you inhaled his scent. There really was no turning back now.

You had kept yourself busy for the next remaining days leading up to Friday. It was getting closer to 7pm and you were still preparing for your date with Bradley. You spent most of the afternoon trying to make yourself look as amazing as you could. Looking at the choices of outfits you had hung up, it was either between a satin red dress that screamed ‘wine me, dine me, 69 me’ or a casual leather corset and jeans. You had no idea where he was taking you. Would you be too over dressed? Too under dressed?

In your head, you wanted to impress him. When in reality, you could be wrapped up in ten jackets and he would still be madly in love with you. Standing in front of the mirror, you admired yourself in the new lingerie you had bought specially for this occasion. Knowing damn well that Bradley would lose his mind the minute he saw it. “Fuck it, the dress it is.” You slipped the dress over your shoulders, pulling it down so it sat nicely around your curves.

Slipping on your heels, you heard a faint knock at the door, you paused looking over at the time. “Well, here it goes.” Giving yourself a once over in the mirror and over powering yourself in perfume.

Grabbing your purse, you made your way over to the front door. Slightly nervous and giddy to see him. You opened it widely with a smile. “Hello.” You said, biting down on your lower lip. He looked so fucking good. He opted for a black shirt, velvet navy blue blazer, tight black pants that hung to his thighs and smart black loathers, and smelling incredibly divine.

He looked down at you, his gaze taking in every inch of your body, mouth wide open. Resting his arm on your doorframe to stop him from falling over. “Shit… you look fucking stunning.”

“Thank you.” You teased, giving him a little twirl to truly show off how amazing you looked and felt. “You don’t look half bad yourself, handsome.”

Smoothing down his moustache, he pulled you into his arms, his palms resting on your lower back. Staring down at you with eyes that were already undressing you in his mind. His heart was racing, any more and it would of exploded out of his fucking chest. Leaning down he kissed you sweetly, “I can’t even put into words how sexy you look. I don’t think I’m gonna be able to concentrate on anything tonight.”

“The feelings mutual, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so good.” You winked at him, sliding your arms around his neck, running your fingers through his hair.

“Fuck… I’m trying so hard right now to behave and not just take you right here, right now.” He considered it for a moment, staring down at your lips and licking his own in this built up anticipation. “You look so beautiful, darling.”

You hummed in response. “Should we go?” Reminding him that you both had a date.

“Okay.” He took your hand and guided you out of the door. Looking down at your hands linked together, you loved the feeling on how large his hands felt in your own small ones. How tightly he held onto you. His did something to you. Something that made your head swirl. He let you lock up and set your house alarms and directed you to his Bronco. Opening the passenger door, he helped you step into it, one of his hands holding yours, the other resting firmly on your hip. If there’s one thing you always liked about Bradley, it was how much of a gentleman he was. He had manners, respect. That was something you always loved about him.

Watching him walk around the car, he scooted into the drivers side and you buckled yourself in.

“You good?” He asked.

“Yeah, I’ve been in here plenty of times, you know?” You replied and smiled.

“It’s a sight I have missed.” He huffed a heartfelt laugh. Gently reaching over and grasping your thigh. He placed a kiss on your cheek as he didn’t want to ruin your lipstick.

Arriving in front of the restaurant, you were greeted by a valet. Which shocked you because you knew Bradley didn’t let anyone touch his pride and joy. Unbuckling yourself, he jogged around to the passenger side to help you out of his car, before giving the keys to valet.

“Thank you, Lieutenant.” You jokingly said as he placed your hand in his, leading you into the restaurant.

Bradley wasn’t big into making an impression. If someone didn’t like him for who he was, and what he was, then he just simply wasn’t interested. But for you, tonight, he made an effort. He picked the most fanciest and well-rated restaurant in town. It was known for its combination of mixed cuisines and fancy wines. He thought it would be the perfect place for your first date. It was very strict on dress codes, and now you know why he looked so good.

There was a warm glow from the candle that sat flickering between you both. You had one of the best views in the place, a window table with a view of the beach and the sunset shining over the water. The dim surroundings and the smell of all the delicious food, it all felt so romantic. There was a band playing live jazz music that added to this romantic atmosphere. You could tell that Bradley was nervous, he was shaking his leg under the table and fidgeting with his hands.

“Bradley, are you okay?” You said softly.

“Yeah… I’m just a little nervous.” He replied, taking a sip of his drink.

“Just relax. This isn’t exactly our first date is it? We were a couple once.”

He laughed at this, but it wasn’t a joyful happy laugh. It was more of a sincerely sad thinking back on memories sort.

“I’m sorry, baby. It’s just, you look so fucking unreal and I just can’t believe you’re here with me, on a date. I’m trying not to mess this up.” He was genuinely in awe of the fact you were here in front of him. It felt like a dream to him.

“Bradley.” You paused, trying to figure out how to word what you wanted to say. “I’m happy to be sat here having dinner with you. Really, I am. And I appreciate all the effort you’ve made. You look gorgeous.”

He reached over the table and placed his hands on top of yours. Smoothing down circles into the skin of your knuckles. “Do you remember our first date? How hard I had to try and persuade you to go out with me?”

Chuckling softly, you replied. “I remember. You took me to that not so ‘fancy’ restaurant and made me look way too over dressed!”

“Yeah, but you looked so sexy, sat there eating a messy burger in that short little dress. Oof!”

You threw daggers at his eyes, trying to forget the whole ordeal. “Although I will admit, that burger was fucking delicious.”

“So were you.” He said with so much confidence.

“This is nice.”

He smiled, “Im glad you like it. I wanted to make it special.” He took your hand and placed it up to his lips, kissing your knuckle gently. “How’s the wine?”

“I’d much rather a nice cold beer and a few glasses of whiskey!” You scoffed.

“That’s my girl.” He grinned.

You were on your last course of the night, dessert. Bradley ordered a couple of plates so that you could share. With how small the rest of your plates from you main meal were. At this point, you were beyond charmed with him. This side of Bradley was completely different than the Bradley you dated years ago. It was like falling in love all over again for him. But in whole new ways.

“These meal portions have been ridiculous, I feel like I’m gonna have to take you to a certain burger place after this.” He teased.

“I wouldn’t say no to that greasy burger right about now.” You replied back, taking a whole bite of the small cheesecake with a raspberry drizzle.

Bradley was absolutely memorised by you. Watching you smile, and laugh over stories and jokes he was telling you. His own face lightening up and grinning widely listening to you tell your own stories. There was a glimmer in your eyes whenever you spoke about something you loved. The way you listened intensely to everything he was saying. It captivated him and his entire attention to you. If one of the other guys were to see him right now, they wouldn’t even recognise him. Not with this goofy grin on his face, that never once faltered. You both had this connection, there was no denying that. You could talk to each for hours about anything and it was all so seamless.

You watched as Bradley got up and made his way over to where the band was playing. You propped your chin up with your elbow, resting it on your knuckle and stared with curiosity when he leaned over the pianist. To your surprise, he got up and let Bradley take a seat. Now you were even more curious. His fingers glided over the white keys and he glanced up and over to where you were sitting. A smile spread on his face, sending you a flirtatious wink. It wasn’t until he started to play did you heart begin to race. It was your song. After your first date, he took you down to the beach and slow danced in the moonlight with you whilst singing ‘Can’t Help Falling In Love’ by Elvis Presley. And now here he was, playing a beautiful melody of it. His eyes were trained on yours as he began to sing along. The rest of the band accompanied him. It was beautiful. He really did go all out to make sure tonight was perfect.

You told yourself that you wouldn’t allow yourself to fall back into this. But with everything he was doing, you only fell deeper for him. When the song ended, the entire restaurant applauded him and he made his way back over to you.

“Still trying to impress me then?” You asked, flashing him a smile.

“Telling me you’re not? Damn, guess I’ve gotta try harder.”

You took a sip of your wine. “You’ve impressed me, Bradley Bradshaw. That was beautiful.” You reached over and placed a kiss on his cheek, leaving a red lipstick stain on him. He didn’t even bother to wipe it off. He was too proud to show off what he had.

The rest of the dinner went amazing. But it was coming to an end, yet the both of you wanting nothing more than to carry it on.

“You know my mom always liked you. Whenever I would see her, without a doubt she would always ask about you. Always badger me with questions about when we’re going to buy a house, when we’re getting married, blah blah. And before she passed… she told me she wanted me to be happy. And said that I always found happiness with you.” You paused for a moment, feeling your eyes begin to tear up.

Bradley stood up, moving his chair and positioning it close to you. Resting his arm around your shoulder, he pulled you in close to him. Placing a light kiss on top of your head, circling his thumb pad over your shoulder. “She was great. I loved her. Do you know she would message me and ask when I’m finally going to put a ring on your finger?” He confessed.

You looked up at him, letting out a faint breath of air through your nose. “I’m not surprised. She wanted nothing more than for us to do something. She thought we were perfect.”

“Well she wasn’t wrong.” Resting his head on top of yours. “We are kinda perfect together.” He said, looking at the reflection of you both in the window.

After paying for the bill, the two of you walked hand in hand back to his car. Once helping you get into the passenger seat and getting in himself. He didn’t drive you back home. Instead, he parked up at the beach. You smiled to yourself, knowing exactly what he was doing.

“Come on.” He guided you out of his car, coming to a halt. “Foot please, ma’am.”

He removed each of your heels and lifted you bridal style onto the sand.

The night breeze was a little chilly. Since you were only wearing a little dress, you were slightly shivering. Goosebumps appearing on your skin. He gently placed you down onto the sand, removing his blazer and draped it over your shoulders. Taking your hand, he slipped his fingers between the spaces of yours and tightly held on. His thumb brushing against the surface of your hand.

He stopped in his tracks and turned to face you. Both of his hands wrapping around you and pulling you close to his chest. “I wanna make you happy, baby. I feel like I’ve gotten to know you all over again. Fall in love all over again with you.”

You hummed, “Since when did you turn so romantic?”

“Since you came back in my life. I had to make this right. Make you feel special. Because you always have been special to me.”

He gently started to sway you both together, humming along to that same Elvis song. You clasped your arms around his neck, resting your forehead on his. Every now and then, a breeze from the ocean blowing past you making you shiver as his arms held you tighter around the waist, moving up and down your back.

“It’s like our first date all over again.”

He lifted your chin with his fingers, kissing you deeply. “I meant it when I said I’m never letting you go again.” He kissed you again. “I’m so damn crazy about you. You’re all I want in this life.” He confided.

“Bradley… show me the way home.”

When you returned back home, you quickly led Bradley to the bedroom. Stepping behind you as his fingers grazed over your skin, moving your hair to the side. Placing kisses to the crook of your neck, to your shoulders. Looking at yourselves in the mirror, he wrapped his arms around you, resting his head on your shoulder. “God, I love you.”

“Mhmm. I know what else you would love aswell.” You turned to face him, pushing him down onto the bed. He spread his thighs wide open, inviting you to sit on him.

His eyes were only on you. Watching as you slowly swayed side to side as you began to remove your dress. Letting it fully slip off and fall to the floor.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Bradley’s mouth was hung open and went dry. He was greeted with the sight of you in the matching new lingerie set you had bought. He had to bite down on his tongue and run his hands over his face. Was he dreaming? “Fuck, baby. You’re so fucking sexy. Is this all for me?” He quickly sat up, grabbing you and dragging you down onto him. His fingers digging into your hips causing you to jolt.

Undoing the buttons on his shirt, you made haste to remove it and throw it to the floor. Your fingers drifted across his chest, down to his abdomen. Tracing over the belt of his pants and over his hard cock. He took your face in his hands kissing you breathlessly as your hands made steady work undoing his pants and boxers, pushing them down to his ankles before he kicked them off.

“Now it’s my turn to make you feel good.” You said confidently.

He was now fully exposed to you, already full on hard over you. You admired him for a few seconds before your hands wrapped around him, one on his shaft and the other teasing his balls. Bradley let out a slow breath, trying to calm himself otherwise he would just cum instantly from your touch. You made your fingers into a ring at the base of his tip and squeezed. Cause the blood to flow to his shaft where you started to skim your fingers up and down. Spitting on the tip, you slowly made work to massage it in and begin a steady pace stroking him.

“Mhm, that feels so good, baby.” Bradley moaned out, looking down at you.

You moved yourself lower down on him, your mouth wide open. The flat surface of your tongue lapped gently at the tip. He bucked his hips up as you began lapping at him. Using the tip of your tongue, you catched some drops of pre cum, licking at his head resulting in an attractive low gruff moan coming from his throat.

You looked up at him, without breaking eye contact, you took his entire head into your mouth. Closing your lips around him, leaving red printed lipstick marks all on him. Taking him out of your mouth, you swirled your tongue all the way around his head as you pulled him in again. Your tongue teasing him around the sensitive head. Taking him deeper into your mouth, you began sucking back and fourth.

Bradley watched you take him deeper, clenching his fingers into your hair and gripping it tightly, as he started to thrust into your mouth. He could feel himself sliding deep down the slick of your throat, and it felt fucking amazing. You took his entire length into your throat, not gagging once.

“Just like that, baby. I’m gonna cum.” He groaned out, gripping your hair more tighter, looking you deep in the eyes as he watched your head bob up and down on him.

His knuckles turning white, you held his cock deep in your throat and swallowed. Bradley let out a loud husky moan, as he felt his release all in your mouth. Closing his eyes and throwing his head back, his back arched as his hips came higher, his cock twitching and jerking in the sensation.

“Come here, gorgeous.” He said, turning his head to the side to face you as you lay next to him.

Kissing you softly and gentle. His hands drifted down your back, running soothing circles on your skin. “That was so fucking good. You’re incredible.” He moved himself over you, putting your hair to the side as he placed a trail of wet kisses down your neck. Leaving gentle bites and kissing each one of them after. He unclasped your bra, throwing it across the room. “You’re so beautiful.” He smiled down at you.

Pulling his body closer to yours, you crashed your lips onto his. He desperately increased the kiss, sliding his tongue and twirling it around with yours. His hands gracefully roaming over your body, caressing every inch of you. Your breathy moans right in his ear overwhelmed him. He pressed his body right to yours, moving against each other in a steady rhythm, one of his legs pressed tightly between your thighs. Your hand lowering down his body, taking his cock in your palm and slowly stroking the base of him.

“Hm, hard for me already?” You whispered into his ear.

“I always am”

He removed your underwear before hoovering himself back over you. “That’s a shame. That lingerie was so fucking sexy.”

Placing himself between your legs, he positioned himself at your entrance. One hand holding down your hip as the other was teasing his length around your slit and rubbing it up and down before gently pushing himself in. A sweet and needy moan escaping your mouth. He wanted to take his time, slowly inserting himself fully into you. “Mhm, you fit me so good, baby.”

He breathed straight into your ear, letting out his own thick moans as he was fully in you now. Finding a steady pace, he began to thrust into you. Each hit filling out the room with the sounds of your bodies slapping together as one. Bradley knew how to work your body. He knew all your weak spots, your sensitive areas, where made you feel extra good.

He started to pound faster and harder into you, as you could feel a tension flowing throughout your bodies. A wave of pleasure rushing over you, making your toes curl and your back arch. Sweat dripping from his torso. He rested his head in the crook of your neck, your delicate fingers clinging into his hair.

“Don’t stop, it feels so good.” You practically begged into his ear and he obeyed all of your wishes. Picking up his pace even more, his thrusts were getting deeper and sloppier and you could feel yourself tightening around him. You screamed out one last moan of his name as your body started to shake from the feeling of your release. “Cum for me, baby.”

Bradley pushed himself up, groaning and gripping at your hips, pounding into you as hard as he could. His own breath was unsteady and so loud. “Fuck! I’m gonna cum.” With a few final extra thrusts, he found his own release.

Rolling onto his side, he pulled you into his chest. A tangled, sweaty mess of limbs intertwining together. He kissed you passionately. His hands dragging down your back before resting one in your hair and gently stroking it.

“How’s my girl?” He asked, kissing the top of your head.

“Never felt better.” You nestled yourself closer to him, resting your head under his chin. His heartbeat was racing crazy. “Will you stay?”

“Is that what you want?” He asked.

“Mhm, I’d like to see your face in the morning. Stay.”

He snuggled you closer, drawing small soothing circles on your back. He smiled into your hair, “God, I really love you.”

[thesharktanksdriver]

Blood's Thicker Than Water (Platonic)

Made this cause I love assassins creed and I hate how they left the plot point about Desmond having a kid from a one night stand. Like sure there’s a comic for Elijah but let’s be real, who here has read that comic?

Sorry if any of them seem out of character, I haven’t played the games in a long while lol

Also thanks to my friend for streaming the games so I can get back into them lol

You never really met your dad but from what your mother described him as he was….a troubled soul

Now to be fair you’ve never exactly met Desmond Miles yourself but from the stories she told it’s obvious he had his fair share of demons

Some of which seemed to spill from the cracks of his soul from the short time she spent with him

A bartender is what he was, until he suddenly up and vanished from said bar in 2012 and died not too long after

It didn’t really make sense then even to your young mind

The gap between his sudden disappearance and death leaving too much unsaid for your mind not to be annoyed by

But as a child you eventually put the thought away

Eventually you forget

Instead going on to pursue your next whim as you focus on the present, or in your case Learning about the past in the present time

Unlike your fascination with your father that went away, your love of history never faded with time

It just seemed to grow the older you got

Your not sure why but something about history just clicked with you

It was somewhere within the range of middle school and reading national geographic that you had realized you liked it

That despite how some areas of it were bleak and disturbing it was interesting

And it got even more so interesting as you delved deeper into the depths of libraries

Nose buried in books lined with dust and old parchment

Yellowed pages and old ink that you carefully decode from centuries of lost meaning and metaphors lost to the modern age

You studied from the ancients all the way up to Victorian

Easing your way though literal centuries of historical records as you soaked up information like a sponge

And it’s there you vegans seeing an odd…repetition of events that seemed to occur

Odd assassinations plagued each era you looked into, all of which connected somehow by people in odd dress

In some journals that had luckily stood the tests of time you uncovered more eye witness accounts

A solider’s log back in the revolutionary war talking about an odd man meeting with his superiors in the dead of night

The diary of a log master who wrote of an odd frequent visitor that had an odd blade hidden beneath his sleeve

The drawing of a Victorian child being freed from a factory that had a hooded lady and man on the rooftop

I’m one you found a symbol, one created from the bottom perspective of an eagle skull, something also commonly associated with these hooded figures

What’s odd as well is that with these hooded assassins you also find traces of another group

One well know to historians such as yourself

Oddly enough the symbol of the Templar knights keep showing up even after their annulment

It’s odd, but what’s more odd enough is that both seemed to be tied to other historical artifacts

Ones well kept in archives and from the public eye

Ones you shouldn’t technically know about if not for you sneaking into sections your don’t have the status to enter

Their always gold with odd symbols. Somehow always pristine and polished despite the fact their dated to be from before ancient times

They for some reason seem to call to you specifically

Tempting you with forbidden knowledge you wish to taste like Eve

But for now you choose to wait until you can do proper analysis on them without the risk of punishment

So you lie and wait

Admittedly you didn’t think anyone expected for you to be this good at your job

In their defence you were a university student here on Co-op and not an actual full time historian

Hell you were in first year for gods sake

But somehow despite it all

Despite the fact you had actual historians and people in the history program years above you here you quickly began to become an outlier

A shinning beacon within the large archive, so much so that you began being allowed in the restricted sections you already snuck into

Mind you, now properly allowed there with some supervision of sorts gave you much more flexibility in research

You got to touch these artifacts

Hold them in gloved palms as silk covered finger glide across its edges and ridges

You study them extensively decrypting and decoding the ancient texts and hieroglyphs

Jotting down what you found in both a report and your own personal journal

Your not sure why you do so but you chock it up to making sure no one takes credit for your work

And this continues to the point your eventually allowed alone with them

It’s great

You dedicate yourself to this task as you learn more and more

Soaking up knowledge like a sponge as you find out more of what was previously lost

Find new angles and perspectives on events

For history isn’t just a set time and date, it’s interpretation based on what we know from sources

And even then sources can be biased

Sources can lie and silence another person’s view on the event

Your more than happy to try make your own interpretations

Admittedly when you were asked to study what looked to be a necklace from these unidentified ancient artifacts you were ecstatic

How could you not be?

Intricate gold woven in something akin to Grecian jewelry

Yet also had hints of something akin to Egyptian

It also…glows? Or at least you swear you’ve seen it glow gold and pulsate a few times but that could be the sleep deprivation speaking

Either way it’s an honour

One you don’t take lightly as you study it

Spending countless restless nights and days trying to crack its code

An unknown source has been funding the archive and your research quite a bit

Betting big money on it much to your surprise and suspension

You get that this is potentially something big but it feels out of left field

Especially since no one knows the name of the company

It’s just under an anonymous donation every month

It’s sketchy

But you aren’t one to argue about free money to further your and your colleagues pursuit of knowledge

Not when this beautiful place used to be underfunded

Not when most historical records were donated by people with a good conscious

Not when this place was almost shut down

With a sigh you continue on your work

Diligently tact checking and writing up a storm

Your writing looks like chicken scratch but that was a commonality between all history majors

Well, along with being giant nerds

And it’s there at that desk at 3 am in the morning, tired and only running on 3 hours of rest you find something peculiar on the necklace

A sharp jaded edge that you absentmindedly prick yourself on by accident

With a groan you wipe the blood away on your pants

Then going up to get a bandaid

You swore to god if you died of tetanus you’d be positively pissed

Unknown to you the necklace starts to glow

When you get home your more exhausted than usual

Your limbs feel like their kade of concrete and your head is stuffed with tissue

Eyelids trying to glue themselves shut

You practically kick off your shoes before tumbling to the couch

Not bothering in changing clothes or showering for the sweet relief of sleeps embrace

So you flop down face first into the old leather cushions of your couch

Only putting in the effort of fishing a hand to grab a throw pillow and blanket from nearby that you burrowed yourself into

A comfy cocoon/prison you couldn’t will yourself to leave even as you swore for a moment you heard something in the house

But your mind writes it off

Your too tired to question anything let alone get up

All you want is sleep

And that’s exactly what you get as your eyelids shut

You fall into the realm of dreams, odd ones playing out in your mind

Blurred images of odd men

A weird void-like realm

The cries of an eagle overhead

A single word appearing in your head

Kenway

And then your eyes snap awake when the sound of arguing fills your ears

Yelling of several male voices jumbling up your already fogged up sense as you practically fall off the couch in a mixture of fear and confusion

Curses escaping your mouth when suddenly the voices go silent and your left in a realm of fear

Hair standing on end as the creaking of the house makes you more alert

Despite the fact you’d never fought a day in your life you will up the courage to grab a baseball bat and cautious cross to where you heard the commotion

Careful steps on the non-creaky boards of the home that you’d luckily memorized

And there you find several men in old garb

Accents of Red tying them together like a string of fate

Or a trail of blood fainting their very existence

they turn to you with sharp eyes

It’s the one in modern clothes that surprises you the most

The face of your supposed dead father staring back at you

Ocher brown eyes that had long lost their life now rejuvenated as they seem to find familiarity in your own features

Some of which mirror his own along with some of the others in the room

The bridge of your nose

A all powerful spark in your eyes as they flick between everyone and escape routes

The way your lip slightly twitches when you try to keep a brave face

Your posture as you decided what to do

It’s all too familiar to him and them in a way that isn’t just coincidence

Especially not when all of them are Kenway

Not when he had been able to prove to them that fact through the experience of virtually living through their lives up until his death

“I’m not sure who the fuck all of you are but get out of my house.” Your fingers twitch and flex as your palms grow sweaty, the wood absorbing the pressure and moisture “especially my dead dad look-alike”

You all but confirm his suspicions

Their suspicions

And it looks Ike for you tonight will be much longer than you anticipated

Turns out that artifact you were studying wasn’t just as normal one

Neither were the other ones you looked at

The way they explained it as was their “artifacts from dead gods”, a fallen civilization that engineered humanity into being their slaves

It’s a lot to take in

Even more so when your suspicions of something bigger happening throughout global history with those odd deaths were real

Oh, and these were you dead ancestors and dad somehow back from the grave and now in your home

…..yeah safe to say that’s a lot to take in after an already very long and tiring shift

You sit there as they explain this, half asleep, and half exasperated

Cause how the hell are you supposed to believe all this bullshit that for some reason feels correct

Something in you tells you that their right yet your mind is fighting that logic

You’d always been a logical person, when it came to most situations you used your brain instead of your heart

And in those cases things ended up fine

But now your faced with this

A situation where your heart is screaming for you to listen as your brain tries to take this all in

Cause logic is completely out the window at the moment

For now you have to trust them even if your still afraid

I mean, how couldn’t you be?

But you get the sense that they understand

At least a little bit by how their also thrusted into a new environment without much say

Perhaps that (along with your own apprehension) is helping comfort them as well

So for now they’ll stay

Your just thanking (the dead) gods that grandma and grandpa’s old home is big enough for all of them

Altaïr Ibn-La’ Ahad

The oldest down the line of your dad’s side of your lineage finds himself often reading through your books in your study

It was a bit of a surprise one day entering it to find him sitting in a spare chair but you don’t mind the silent company

Especially as he seems to find interest in your studies

Occasionally he breaks the silence and asks you a question about the subject he’s reading about

He’s by far the oldest (even if he’s back in the body of his prime) of them therefore he’s the one who has the most figuratively to catch up on

So you indulge him

And also asks questions as well that he seems eager in answering

Knowledge connects you both, scholarly intellect being the bridge between the two of you despite centuries of time apart

Typically he asks about thinks such as modern life and what is know about his home, what happened to it? What it’s known of his era

You answer as best you can

Especially since that era of time isn’t exactly your forte

But he appreciates it anyways

Appreciates that you try, appreciates that you passionately care about history in the first place

Admittedly your mom was supportive but never understood your love of history

She’d listen to your rants and long conversations with a polite smile but you knew she never understood what you were talking about

But he does

He does and contributes whole heartedly in just as much passion

It’s nice

What’s also nice is that he’s studied the artifacts you now study as well

So now your both constantly coming up and developing ideas together

A constant back and forth

Hypotheses, discussion, and testing

Delving deeper into discovery like you’ve wanted

But with this he also helps you see where passion and obsession mix together

After the loss of his wife and son he delved into studying as a form of escape

It drove who was left away

Made the pit in his heart deeper

He doesn’t talk about it often but he seems to see how you may go down the same path

And he warns you of it

Unlike his younger self (that he now appears as) he’s wise if a little rough around the edges

He encourages knowledge but not to the point where it’s an all encompassing and toxic obsession

Within the household he seems to take a somewhat neutral but quiet role

He helps out and offers advice and guidance

Much like a teacher and grandfather of sorts

Speaking up when he has to and making sure the house doesn’t end up in disrepair

He seems to have a fascination with modern appliances, or at least holds a thankfulness for them

Like a few others he sticks to his robes most the time but you’ve seen him sport more modern clothes once awhile

Stuff still somewhat reminiscent of what he wore before but with a modern flare. Things with hoods and draping. Silks and wool. Something with an accent of red mixed in

Sometimes when you fall asleep in your studies you find a blanket draped over you and a cup of tea at your side

He won’t admit it’s him but he’s the only one who knows your tea preferences

He keeps his worry for you deep down but it’s somewhat relived when seeing that you take his warning of not taking the pursuit of knowledge too far

“It says here there was something called the “French revolution”. Would you care to explain what happened here to me?” He asks making you pause your work for a moment, when he sees your smile he knows your answer. Sure he read some of this book and got the gist of it, but something about seeing your eyes light up at his inquiry makes him feel at peace for a moment.

“Would I ever!”

Ezio Auditore da Firenze

This man is quite literally all up in your (and everyone’s) business

Not in an annoy way per say but he’s definitely curious about the lives his descendants have led (both good and bad)

Ezio is very clearly a family man and it’s somewhat ironic to see since half of this household has some sort of familiar issue

Most of which is some sort of daddy issue stemming from either Haythem or Edward that trickled down the line to you

Something that Ezio is seemingly trying to wrap his head around

Out of the others he’s the one who opens up the most

Partially because you think he misses his immediate family and friends

It must be a lot to handle being away from home, now in a foreign land where everything has changed

Despite that though he keeps a brave face

Almost always flashing a smile as he drags you from your study to have some “bonding time”

You won’t admit it to his face but you don’t mind

Especially as he gives your poor hunched over back a break

And treats your pallet to some good old fashioned (literally) Italian food and not cup ramen once again

He tried it once and threw your supply out, saying he’d be supplementing you with food from now on

You can’t exactly say your disappointment or upset from the heaven that is fresh baked garlic bread and pasta

He cooks not only for you but for the others of the house as well, saying his sister taught him lest he piss off his future lady

Taking in their suggestions and cooking foods from their homes as a way of him offering comfort

Whilst he does these tasks he often hums in his mother tongue of Latin

You don’t have the heart to tell him it’s a dead language

Especially when he seems so happy that you can somewhat understand it

He’s happily rambling and teaching you words

Helping you sound out phrases and pronunciation correctly unlike your Latin professor

Some of his songs he lightly sings under his breath get stuck in your head since he has a good singing voice

But despite the facade you see the cracks

Sometimes you find him looking at modern objects mumbling about how Leonardo would have loved to see this or made something similar

Or how Claudia would’ve liked this book

How Petruccio would have loved this toy

It….leaves a bitter taste in your mouth

Once upon a time you felt this same type of longing for family

Once a time you thought of you dad before going to bed and staring at his old Polaroid with hope

One that would never come to fruition (until now)

It’s why you indulge him, to keep his mind off the deeper plunge of melancholy

Compared to the others he’s relatively open to modernizing

In fact he seems somewhat excited in these things

Raiding your wardrobe like a damn fashionista and critiquing what’s good quality

He also has a wide variety of looks, not sticking to something similar to his time of dress

Versatile and somehow up to date? Your not sure how but somehow he’s in fashion?

Like he must’ve found a copy of vogue or something cause there is no way he just guessed that this was the new trend

When you pressure him on it he replies that he’s simply that amazing

You call bullshit but have yet to find evidence

But in the meantime you ask get him to tell you about Da Vinci and you furiously jot down what he says

Sometimes when he looks at you he sees flashes of Claudia’s quick wit

It makes him long for home yet as he looks at his descendants and ancestor he also feels….something

A small pit of warmth developing as he gets to know the inhabitants of this house longer

Meet Altair besides through a weird vision

His home is in Florence yet that feeling of comfort from the Villa is bleeding into these old (yet new) walls

“So this painting is his most famous work?” He asks looking at your computer with a bit of confusion, his scared lips quirking at the digital image.

“Yeah. This is actually probably the most famous painting in the world”

“Really? Of all his works this one is considered the best? I’m not doubting his skill but of all his pieces?”

“Believe me, I get it. It’s only this famous cause it was stolen”

“Stolen?!? Tell me who did it! I swear-”

Edward Kenway

For someone who was a feared pirate on the seas he’s surprisingly much less violent than you’d think him to be

Sure, he’s scary as hell still but at least he’s not stabbing you in the back and making off with your grandmas pearls or something

Still your a bit unnerved by him considering you did a project on him back in middle school and he’s now in your home

Munching on some god damn biscuits as if this was a normal situation

His son Haytham avoids his as best he can but he seems to bond with his grandson quite easily

Or more easily than he does with Haythem

It takes some time but you eventually go to him when you find him awake at the dead hours of night

A whisky bottle in hands as he occasionally takes a swig in silence as he stares out the window

You don’t talk

You don’t need to when he drinks in silence for awhile staring at the moon before eventually talking about the guilt

In his pursuit of power and gold he let people die

Greed woven into his soul as he sacrificed good men for his cause

He changed and did good yet his past haunts him

Hands stained red

Guilt eating away

A son who doesn’t want anything to do with him

At some point when he stops his rambles you speak

Reminding him that while his actions weren’t good he changed

It doesn’t wash the blood away but it stoped more from staining his hands

Though Haythem avoids him Connor is more than eager to fill his place

It doesn’t fix his overlying problems but it does help

In the morning he ends up talking with you more after this as your initial fear melts away

You end up seeing Edward Kenway, not the fiercesome captain of the Jackdaw

You see a man burdened by past mistakes and still wishes to do better

You see a human being at its core

With history it’s easy to forget the people your looking at was once alive and a breathing being

One who was just as flawed as you and I

But seeing a infamous pirate captain cry about issues pertaining not just time him made you remember that

He isn’t opposed to modernizing but seems to keep a certain sea-like touch to his appearance

Clothes for labourers and something loose is what he normally sticks to

He’s lucky though since he doesn’t exactly have traditional robes and can incorporate what he appeared in with a modern flair

Occasionally when he gets drunk he slurs out old shanties and talks about his epic tales

You might or might not have freaked the fuck out learning that James kidd was actually a woman

Mind blown

Ezio and Altair had to drag you away from your computer from writing an entire essay

Sitting on your countertop he holds a glass of whiskey in hand, one held out for you as you sit down beside him. The moon casts its gentle rays and lights the marble slab you both sit on. “I prefer Rum but this’ll do” it’s said in a playful tone that makes you nod and take a sip.

“I can grab some captain Morgan later…speaking of which, did you know him?

“No, but I did find a few of his things laying about “

“Care to tell?”

“Aye, sure thing”

Haytham Kenway

As the only Templar in this house it’s safe to say he’s definitely the outlier of the bunch

A relative lone wolf from the group that all hold some sort of Ill feelings towards him

From his father its confusion and sadness

The others it’s a mix of that and anger

From Connor it’s just plain…well your not quite sure how to describe it

The two’s entire family situation is just plain messy and thick with tension that their blades could cut through

But here’s the thing, in this house your also an outlier

A neutral zone so to say

Hell, the entire house seemed to be a haven of sorts from their whole Templar vs Assassin conflict

To be honest you don’t really care about this secret war

Well that’s a lie you are interested in these war of secret societies but you don’t specifically care to get involved in their politics

Not when you have business in interfering in it unless a fight breaks out and your telling everyone to calm the fuck down

So safe to say your kinda the only one who talks to Haytham

He is…well sometimes he’s a bit of an ass (in the British type of way) but at the same time he’s good conversation

Specifically when it comes to that of morals and philosophical beliefs

He is a conflicted man

A flawed one

But he holds his beliefs and morals despite the fact he’s been hurt and betrayed by a man he viewed as a mentor

He doesn’t talk about it much but he’s still hurt

Still seething with venom that burns his soul and flesh

Makes him want to lash out despite his upperclassman appearance and attitude

That despite it all he loves his son, so much so he willingly walked into what would be his death knowingly

That despite what happened he loves his dad yet can’t face him yet on account of what he became

What ideals and morals he still believes in even now

It’s perhaps he’s venting this to you rather than a journal because he knows you won’t judge him unfairly on the basis of what side your own

Your judging him as a flawed man and as an equally flawed person

It’s with him as well you open up about your own frustrations

How you still don’t know how to feel about this all

The fact that a lot of what you once knew was flipped on it’s head

Along with the fact your not even sure how to address your dad

It’s an entire mess but perhaps your both messed up together and that also draws you both to talking

To discuss your feelings of insucurity and confliction

To feel comfort that your not alone in not having your emotional shit in order

On some especially…emotional nights you both both have a cup of tea

He seems to enjoy that each time you use a different type, much of which used to be hard to obtain due to shipping and it’s prices

He hasn’t really yet grasped modern technology but your slowly helping him with it

It’s kinda like trying to teach a grandpa to figure out a phone, but now it’s him with the concept of a microwave

Like some of the others he’s yet to really also change his clothes to something modern

There has been a few times though he sported sweaters and vests

Your now working on helping his wardrobe since he prefers a sophisticated look

Occasionally he looks at the photos that line your walls, looking as you evolve through the ages

It’s…odd

With Connor he never had the chance to watch him grow

Never a snapshot to immortalize what he was like a child but now ones of you litter the walls like paintings

He feels melancholy

Yet at the same time he’s happy to get another chance maybe

One that is seemingly being helped by your gentle hand unknowingly

“I never thought about it until now but the stars are different” he says taking a sip of his matcha tea, he lets it pool on his tongue and experience the flavour. Not his favourite but not the worst

“That’s cause of light pollution here…though the stars do move so it it’s possible they’ve shifted position in the sky”

“Do they teach you about the stars in your schooling?”

“Yeah I took some. Not sure why, it just kinda spoke to me. Maybe it’s the Kenway blood”

Ratonhnhaké:ton/Connor Kenway

Of the group Connor is the most quiet and surprisingly the one whom you connect with the best for some reason

Perhaps it’s cause your both socially awkward in ways that let you relate

Or the fact you’ve both been ostracized by society for various reasons

His company is that of a quiet one but one you accept it with ease as you both sit and enjoy each others company

A quiet kinship made of unspoken but understood words from one another

The reminder that someone else is there and your not truly alone

He is perhaps the one you feel you can understand the most

And it’s the same likewise for him

Your both people deeply hurt and still bleeding internally

People raised by only their mother in a cruel and harsh world

People who were let down one way or another by their father

People who are still mad and angry but use that to further their determination

It’s odd but you feel truly understood

Like your soul was peeled back to reveal at your core your still a lone spirit lost in the world

One clinging to what they know as their only lifeline in this confusing and jumbled mess of a situation

The hulking 6 foot 2 man shows you trails near your home

Taking to the forest paths you’ve know your entire life and helping you discover even more about them

And while he does this he teaches you more about the world as you both walk the old beaten path

He tells you how to identify what type of tree is which, which stones are likely geodes and what tracks belong to who

It’s honestly petty interesting especially since he adds snippets of stories from his heritage

In return you talk about what you know as well

Snippets of your own knowledge that he seems to store into his mind just as you do with his stories

An equal exchange of sorts

On these walks you begin to notice he takes you out on these when your at your most stressed

The times in which your mind is overworking and consuming itself with anxiety

The times in which you need to breath

Connor doesn’t seem like one to vocally express his care but he does so through action

Small inconspicuous actions that mean a lot more than what meets the eye

It’s seems that his towards you is helping you when you need it most

Taking you away to just take a moment for yourself

To just breath in the fresh air and let the sunset coloured leaves of autumn crunch under your boots

Letting the cold breeze take away your worries

It’s perhaps better than any type of verbal support

Yet another unspoken action of care and compassion through knowing and watching

Of watching and knowing when you need a break

When you realize this and give him a small tired smile as a thanks he seems to know

Only giving a small nod with a minuscule smile of his own

It only grows bigger when you begin to ask him if his traditions, of the stories and practices of his people that he’s more than willing to tell when he knows you ask out of genuine curiosity and respect

Connor is somewhat 50/50 in modernizing

He adapts quite well but still needs help with certain things as he navigates the situation

But like usual he is anything but resourceful as he watches what you do and figures it out

He helps the others quite a bit with what he’s picked up and somewhat takes pride in the fact he can help them

Whilst he’s privy to wearing his robes he isn’t against more modern clothes

The only problem though is sometimes finding stuff that fits him considering he’s not only a giant but also fairly muscular

But your both eventually able to find some stuff for him to wear that he likes

He really appreciates though that you try to buy clothes and jewelry from nearby indigenous peoples

It might not be his but he appreciates the sentiment and familiarity that the beaded jewelry give him

“I’ve lived here my whole life and walked down these paths a thousand times yet it seems more like your the local here” you say with amusement as you follow Conner through an area you’d be never been before.

He smiles, it’s small but there as he adds “just a matter of perspective. You see the paths your used to and I see ones you hadn’t noticed”

Desmond Miles

Yeah so this is entirely awkward for you

Like how the fuck do you emotionally deal with this and the fact your very dead dad who didn’t know you existed till now is now very alive

And living in your house with his very dead ancestors that are also now alive

Case and point you don’t, specifically you ignore the problem and act like everything is fine

You lock yourself away and try to avoid him like the plague

Somehow Scurry past him and into the kitchen to grab something before returning to your abode to eat

But then things got complicated

Things change

You began talking to the others

Slowly coming out the darkness of your study and joining the dinner table

But you still try to avoid him

It feels like the sight of him burns your mind, all those nights as a kid coming back to you

The hope and then disappoint in learning he died and that he likely never wanted you

Your mother never said this but the other kids did. They always teased and picked at the fact you were a mistake

It’s why you push so hard now to be the best, To prove them wrong (to prove to yourself that your worth existing)

The fact is that now he’s here and you don’t know how to deal with that

How would you even start?

What do you even say to him?

You quiet down when he enters a room because you don’t know what to do

Whatever your about to say dying in your throat like a caged bird and all that came come out are garbled noises as you evade him

Eyes casting down to your hands like a child averting their gaze from their parent when in trouble (he is your dad so it’s the same thing right?)

Leaving the room he’s in as quickly as you can once a take is done

The others notice quick, I mean how can’t they? A damn butter knife can cut through the tension

The whole thing with Haytham and Connor is less tense than this

But what can you even do?

How in thick do you talk to him and how can he even talk to you?

Your 18 and in university, he’s 25 and was a bartender in New York before apparently sacrificing himself for the world

He’s closer in age to being a big brother rather than your dad.

But even besides that he’s been long dead and gone since 2012

It’s been years since that point and more importantly he’s someone important and your not

He’s an assassin born to a bloodline of other assassins

Someone who was raised in this tradition with greatness not only in his origin but also in his death

And your you

A child born from a one night stand who’s only achievement is being good at knowing about old people

It hurts but it’s true

If he’s a star then your a candle compared to his light

A mere blip or spark to the greater picture

There had been times he looked like he wanted to say something but you scurry away before he can say anything

Sometimes you catch the looks and small gestures Ezio tries to make as if to encourage him to go up to you

How Connor sometimes brings up to you how he wishes for reconciliation with his dad and that perhaps it’s possible with your own

Altair not beating around the bush and plainly telling both him and you to talk

But it all feels for naught and dies when those feelings and thoughts return

But eventually he corners you

Well not really corners you per say but he catches you as you leave your study after a talk with Altair

“Listen I don’t have any grudge against you. For one you died, I’d be a dick if I blamed you for that or your decision to save the world and whatever. Second you didn’t know about me in the first place” you say briefly looking up at him before averting your gaze, he looks like he wants to say something but he can’t get a word out before you continue “but you don’t have to act like my dad or anything. You never asked for me, it was a mistake, I was a mistake and I’m fine with it.” (Your lying to yourself)

You leave before he can get a word out, and he’s left alone in the hallway. When he returns to Ezio he just sits down in silence. It’s enough for everyone to know I didn’t go the way he wanted.

Admittedly when you begin to notice odd figures at the achieves you write it off

I mean it could literally be anyone plus the supervisors aren’t making a fuss about them here

If anything their welcoming them and looking at them with hopeful eyes

Small glances full of opportunities in them

It’s odd but maybe their just some non-profit here to support the archive

Or even private benefactors of sorts

But then they turn their attention to you

Plastic smiles on their faces, artificial pleasantries as their main spokeswoman sits in front of you in a slick suit

Her stilettos tapping against the ground as your eyes trail to her bodyguards of sorts

They stand not too close nearby

Watching

Waiting

And then she begins talking

And slowly you grow more and more uncomfortable

Hands playing with one another, fingers twitching in your palm as crescent are indebted in your skin

They apparently are interested in your findings

In your research

But more specifically you

They’ve researched you…a lot

Down from where your mother was born to her great great something grandfather

And your father

…but that’s not public knowledge

It wasn’t even on your birth certificate

This….this isn’t

She smiles though now the darkness melts away into something more knowing

Dangerous and sadistic of sorts

And it’s there on her little pin showing her name you recognize the logo

Within your house you’d vaguely heard whispers of the others talking in hushed tones

You didn’t mind

The less you know the better in that sense

Out of sight and out of mind

But sometimes you’d hear the mumbles of a name that you didn’t put together until now

One spat with venom just as they did with the word of the Templar

Abstergo

You barely have time to react before your black bagged and sufficiently knocked out

Mind drifting to that of panic

What would happen to you?

What will happen when the others find out?

But then those thoughts fade away into the dark void of sleep

When you wake up things are odd

Everything is a sterile white and too bright for your foggy sleep tinged eyes

The room is blurred as is your senses as you weightlessly drift

Everything feels odd

And then it happens sharp and pure pain that leaves you writhing and screaming into the void

And that’s when you notice that white light had left and your in a void of sorts

Empty glitching effects all around you as your left to look around in confusion until you see something

A memory? Specifically one of your memories

Your staring at a simulation of sorts of your past self

A 8 year old in their bed with chubby cheeks pulled up into a melancholy smile

You recognize this moment, your small hands holding a picture that had long been put away into a scrapbook and forgotten

Your left wordless and confused

And then that bitch’s voice appears again and she explains

This entire thing is a simulation of your memories

And essentially their gonna go through your head picking through them to not only learn what they want but then use you as their lab rat cause of your bloodline.

Cause apparently memories of your ancestors could be accessed that way and it was generally easier to have a descendant rather than finding objects and artifacts

And it’s there in that simulation it feels like your mind is being ripped apart

Memories ripped from your mind to play out in front of you as she makes comments and documents them before their forced back in and another is ripped out

Like book having pages torn out and then crudely stitched back in

It hurts so damn much

Over and over

Your just left in screaming again on the ground of this simulated world as she makes idol comments

Left begging for it to stop

For someone to help

For the love of god someone help you make it stop

Of course this would happen to you

You’ve always had shit luck despite your whole family motto being “make your own luck”

What utter bullshit

You can’t make good luck from bad

Can’t just change things when the scales are already tipped one way

But then like a miracle from above she goes quiet and suddenly the memory is gone

And your left in the void still reeling from it all

Still on the glitching ground before once more white encompasses your view

Blinding and bright as your still recovering

And then an unfamiliar voice tunes in

“Your safe” it’s heavily accented, in an Irish twang that’s soft as he says these words to you. A reminder that your ok now, it’s over. “Can you walk?”

You try to look at him with squinting eyes yet they still can’t adjust, your limbs feel heavy like solid rock. Unmoving even as you try. With some difficulty you shake your head

“Aight, I’ll have you carry you then. Are you alright with that?”

“Just get me out of here…please. I just want to go home, I miss my family” it sounds pathetic but as tears begin to fall the stranger doesn’t seem to think Ill of you.

“Don’t worry, I get what that’s like.” The tone is sympathetic and like before is soft “you’ll be home I no time, I promise”

You think for a moment before responding “I trust you”. For a second you feel him go still at that before he picks you up.

For awhile there’s buzzing alarms and panic as your saviour gets you out whoever’s you were taken too

There’s not a moment of silence as he sharply runs and dodges past what you think to be gunshots

Occasionally he grumbles something but for the most part he seems calm

Composed despite the chaos of it all

So much so that it makes you wonder if this is an average Tuesday for him

There’s so much shout and yelling for your already pounding head

But sometimes the yells are silenced as the sound of a blade cuts it short

Footsteps far behind eventually stopping

Sirens getting more and more distant and allowing you and the man to breath

It’s there in the pocket of silence you learn his name

Shay

It sounds familiar, like really familiar yet you can’t put your finger on it

Either way your grateful because how can you not be?

Your away from that place

Away from the torture of having your mind picked apart like a lab experiment

Having the privacy of your memories looked at and prodded

But now your somewhat okay

Your eyes feel weird, your vision feels weird like it keeps switching between something

Your at least somewhat able to walk though it’s unbalanced

but Shay doesn’t seem to mind

He offers an arm that you cling to for support

A kind smile on his face as he makes sure you didn’t injure yourself further

And then you notice his clothes are….old

Like Haytham and Connor level old

And…shit

It’s halfway home through the trails you recognize due to Connor that your vision changes

The world feels bigger as if your third eyes opened or something

Shays figure and presence is highlighted in a clover green

And perched nearby is another green figure, one waiting for a good moment

Shay follows your sight before promptly having to duck out the way from a knife that flies at his head

He pushes you back behind him, you stumble back vision switch between monochrome and normal as someone else grabs you

Instinctively you almost yell before realizing who was now helping keep you steady

And the other person now attacking Shay

“Connor! He’s good! He saved me!”

“He’s a Templar!”

“So is Haytham and you haven’t killed him…again have you!”

At that Shay pauses, turning to look at you with confusion as Connor stops his attempt as slitting his throat

Ezio on the other hand helps you up but keeps a firm protective grip

Watching Shays movements like Connor in apprehension before the two settle down and stare at you for more detail

Both waiting on your word

“He saved me and today has been a long ass day-“

“You’ve been gone for 4 days”

You pause momentarily at that before adding “long 4 ass days of having my mind literally ripped apart. Can we please head back to the house and settle this there? Thank you”.

The moment you get back your almost immediately tackled to the ground by a familiar white and red hoodie wearing absent (dead) father

It’s….odd but nice

Desmond (still feels too awkward to call him dad) is holding you like a lifeline and you notice bags beneath his eyes

He looks like hell

But none of the others are any better either

They all like positively exhausted yet light up when seeing your safe

Your home

It reminds you of your mom when you returned home from school

The long work day evident on her brow but her smile lighting up the room at the sight of your face

It’s no different compared to then except for the fact they all (except Haytham) then protectively pull you away from the nearby Shay who’s being glowered at by Connor

Safe to say it’s a little awkward until you somehow pull free of Desmond’s death grip hobble your ass between the two lone Templars and Assassins

A long discussion having to take place between them all as you not only explain what happened but also it seems you all forget one crucial thing

It seems you forgot about your mom’s side of the family

Whoop de Doo you have more things to process and so does everyone else here

Specifically Connor and Haytham Because before apparently knew (or know of) Shay

Great, another complex relationship in this household like there needed to be more of that

But with this entire situation it also highlights something bigger

Your not safe

None of you are safe

Perhaps you never truly were

And that in turns leaves you with the difficult decision of what to do next

Because In this difficult game of politics between two ever warring groups your a neutral force

You wanted to stay that way but unfortunately fate had other plans

as your drug into this game your left with limited options of sides for not only yourself but for the others who seem keen on following you

Even the two (former?) templars seem to follow your decision

So When Des…er your dad suggests finding his old friends it seems like the best option

It’s either that or be kidnapped and prodded again and who knows what abstergo will do to everyone else (even one’s that once upon a time we’re on their side)

Besides, he says you’ll get along well with someone named Shaun so It can’t be too bad

So he sends out a message and you leave the home you find yourself look at with melancholy

It stopped being a home when mom died but now it seemed like it was just that again

Only time can tell what will bring upon you next

But….you think you’ll be ready for whatever is thrown at you when you have this odd group of family at your side

The expression of blood is thicker than water never really held much weight since you only ever had your mom until she was gone

But maybe you understand it a bit better now

[desire-mona]

why i think richard cameron is Like That

the long awaited cam analysis post of sorts!!!

so to start off, let me acknowledge the obvious: CAMERON SUCKED FOR WHAT HE DID TO HIS FRIENDS. THAT WAS MEAN AND SHITTY OF HIM, HE DESERVED TO GET PUNCHED IN THE FACE AND HE DESERVED TO HAVE HIS FRIENDS STOP LIKING HIM. this post is just to paint a more nuanced picture of the motivations and reasoning behind his cam-ness. also i feel the need to address that my love for dylan kussman HEAVILY influences my opinion on cameron, so please keep that in find when u read this. if my bias shows at any point then feel free to offer your perspective, odds are i'll find a way to agree :3

-

lets start at the very beginning of the movie, his first appearance with the tradition banner. this obviously wasn't anything i rly thought of in depth on my first watch, but on my second watch i was like oh Hm.

tradition, of course, is a BIG aspect of welton that the movie repeatedly emphasises, drawing lots of attention to how nothing changes. i find cam holding the tradition banner especially interesting in relativity to neil holding the excellence banner specifically. cam very clearly tries his best to embody the rules of welton (more on this later) and very rarely deviates from those rules, although he does on occasion (again - more on this later.) but despite his attempts to be the manifestation of those values are never met with any praise, unlike neil. that's not to say that neil isn't deserving of that praise though, absolutely he is deserving, but in terms of academics specifically, cam's pretty up there too! this part doesnt exactly tie in directly with the rest of the post, but just thought id point it out first to add a layer to the rest of my thoughts.

how i view cam's character arc is something that's framed in a way thats not supposed to be viewed as an arc, i suppose (interesting considering the tradition thing hm). of course thats inaccurate as he does in fact have in arc, it just small in relation to the more forefront-ed poets. and it makes him ultimately less likeable, so.

during a majority of the movie (pre neil death) cam is known as the guy who doesnt like to break rules, that much is obvious, but in the end he still does with the dead poets society. now the reasoning behind that isnt actually touched on in a direct way, so there are a few different ways you can view that. i'll touch on a few different reasonings that me, @pencileraser1, and @good--merits-accumulated came up with.

my reasoning - i see cam's willingness to break the rules as cam holding his friends' idea of him on a high pedestal, constantly taking into consideration what they think. not wanting his friends to consider him a loser or boring in any way, he joins despite the anxiety surrounding being caught. not without fuss though, he does still outwardly talk about how this isnt something they should be doing. all this and yet he does in fact join, AND he doesnt rat anyone out for a majority of the movie (even after the call from god dealio!!!) fomo, basically.

nick's reasoning (found in this post) - he just wanted his friends to be safe!!! joining to (in my view) keep them in line in terms of safety as well as. i guess. provide the reminder of the consequences i suppose?? nick im opening up the floor to u if u wanna delve into this point more cuz ur definitely able to provide better reasoning n such. if asking nick to talk abt things was a full time job.

tristan's reasoning (discussed in dms) - cam's need for authority. tristan brought up a very good headcanon/ theory/ something or other that cam is the type to need constant direction or authority, and i totally agree! (reason for that will - again - come up later.) now this culminates in a couple different ways. 1) most obviously, adhereing (ehh) to the rules of welton, and 2) his relationship with the rest of the poets. due to the size of the welton student body, a lack of individual direction from teachers and staff is almost inevitable. so to fill that gap, he adheres to his friends' """"""rules"""""", and joins the poets. floor is open to you as well if you'd like to elaborate further, tristan :3

my thoughts of cam being super focused on his friends' idea of him actually started as a bit. i believe i made a hc post about smoking weed?? maybe?? and said something along the lines of "cam would smoke even if he doesnt want to, not cuz of peer pressure from his friends but more of a self imposed peer pressure. thinking its rude/ cringe/ uncool to turn down smthn like this bc all the rest of the guys r doing it." but after a rewatch of the scene in dps where theyre all walking outside, it started having some merit in my mind! in that scene, keating does a sort of imitation of cameron when he first starts to walk, something like "am i doing this right?", "am i walking weird?", etc. (paraphrasing ofc.) so i sort of took that aspect and applied it to other parts of his character and found out that oh, this actually kinda makes sense!

speaking of keating and his lessons, lets talk carpe diem.

now my interpretation of cam is that he doesn't exactly *want* to apply carpe diem in his life, seeing it as an antithesis of the welton values. only joining the poets for the reasons mentioned above. however, he does indeed apply it in my eyes, but more as a fucked up reversal and dickish version which eventually ends up in him deservedly getting punched. now is this how keating intended him to interpret carpe diem? ehhhhhhhhhhhhh,, it's complicated, let's talk about the context a bit.

this part is more theorising than anything, so take it with a few grains of salt if u wish.

cam quite obviously is a pretty big stickler for the rules, which i believe is a result of outside influence. id like to thank @lovech1ld for reminding me of this! cam's parents/ grandparents/ guardians are noticably older than the other poets, which, in my eyes, makes a heavy emphasis on following the rules make a lot more sense (respect your elders type shit.) so this, combined with the inherent fear of authority that most of the boys seem to have, makes him a chronic rule follower. but it goes further than that, after these ideas have been pushed for so long, i feel that cameron's started to mix up his own personal morals and values with the morals and values of welton, viewing those two things as one in the same. here's where that starts to muddy things up in terms of carpe diem.

i interpret cam's finking AS his application of carpe diem in his life, but as more of a subconscious choice. now you may be thinking "hey. mona. what?" and i UNDERSTAND! but here's my reasoning behind that. as i mentioned/ theorised before, cam has a very high opinion of his friends' idea of him, but this does eventually change after neil's passing. his subconscious carpe diem application, to put it into proper words, was a way to stick up for himself and his beliefs despite what all his friends think. again, being brought about by neils death, since he didn't choose to rat anyone out when the opportunity first presented itself during the call from god assembly. and i dont think cam sticking up for himself is inherently a bad thing!! but! since cam's idea of his morals are so clouded by welton's, this isn't actually sticking up for himself, this is just being a tattletale.

he did provide other reasoning for doing so to the poets of course, so lets talk a bit about that too. he says something along the lines of "i did it for neil" and "this is what he wouldve wanted" which is obviously bullshit, objectively. but i don't think he saw it that way, i think he genuinely believed thats what he thought neil would've wanted, as stupid of him as that was. obviously thats not what he wouldve wanted AT ALL, and why he actually thought that is FAR beyond me. but i really dont think he wouldve turned anyone in if he didnt genuinely believe it, especially considering the fact that he was PART of the dead poets. even if he was the one to confess, im sure he likely got punished as well. (which also couldve been what he wanted? tristan this is an opening to also discuss catholic cam on here bc ur reasonings for that were INCREDIBLE.)

on top of this, i really dont think that cam actually understood the weight of what turning in everyone would do. now i will say right away, hes not dumb, he knew that keating would be fired and charlie would be expelled, and that alone should've turned him away if he really wanted to honor neil. as i said before we started, he absolutely deserved to be punched and lose his friends, that was a dick move that ended up ruining two lives for a long long time, if not forever.

but.

due to him grieving, his rules = morals shtick, and fear of authority, i think he turned in the poets without giving actual, proper thought into what the consequences of that would be. which manifests itself both in the film with the final scene.

in the last scene where all of the boys stand on the desk, we see multiple shots of cam looking around and looking at everyone standing. and we (or at least i) can definitely see some sort of consideration to join them!!! he of course doesnt, and ends up choosing to sit, looking QUITE ashamed. this too can he interpreted a couple ways, either as him being embarrassed that his peers are doing this, or as him wanting to join them but knowing that he was the reason keating was fired. knowing that it would be incredibly disingenuous, even if he stood as a way to sort of apologise to keating + the poets for what he did and show that he regrets his actions, he stayed seated. and was so. so. mad at himself for it.

now i don't remember where i heard this so im not sure how to go about fact checking, but i believe the choice to keep cam seated was ultimately dylan kussman's?????? but dont take my word as gospel in terms of that, i very well could be wrong.

BUT! this gives me an opportunity to talk abt how much i love dylan kussman!!!!! nick vocalised the thought before i was able to in one of his posts, but considering the fact that i agree wholeheartedly, i'll reiterate it. i see rsl and ethan hawke constantly be praised (deservedly!) for their understanding of the inner workings of their characters, especially reflected in the desk set scene. and while YES ABSOLUTELY, i think dylan needs this praise as well. dylan was the PERFECT casting choice for cameron and i will shout that from the rooftops until my voice goes hoarse. so so so many of his little mannerisms, facial expressions, ways of speaking, soooo many etceteras are just so. so. CAMERON! even the most comprehensive directorial choices cant top an actor's inherent understanding of a character and reflection of that in their performance. good god! i think my new dream in life is to ask dylan about how he came about properly embodying cameron and his process in doing so.

anyway

with my dylan fanfare over, that about wraps up my thoughts on cam in terms of the film itself. HOWEVER. i have lots and lots of thoughts after a long convo with tristan about certain headcanons and post-canon theories and whatever. will probably touch on those but i dont really have my thoughts properly collected enough, so that wont be until later.

as per usual with these types of posts, everyone else is welcome to add any input they may have. cam is one of my fav things to talk abt in terms of dps so i will eat up every single little thing. thank u for reading!!!!

[atthelowestfromao3]

About you ? (Don't let go)

Summary:

Midoriya Izuku has vanished without a trace, missing for three long months. When Katsuki Bakugou, renowned pro hero, reluctantly takes on the cold case at the behest of Izuku's mother—his devoted, unseen fan—he embarks on a journey of unraveling mysteries and piecing together memories. As he delves deeper into Izuku's world, Bakugou unexpectedly finds himself captivated by a person he's never met, navigating a path where love intertwines with the shadows of a haunting disappearance.

Or the story where Katsuki Bakugou falls inexorably in love with someone he's never laid eyes on.

Chapter 1: Did you think I had forgotten?

Katsuki Bakugou was notorious for his impatience. His famous short temper, who’s  presence been a constant in his life since his childhood, despite years of therapy, remained untamed. Today was an especially trying day—a fan meet-and-greet. He despised these events with a passion. His fans, he believed, consisted mostly of desperate, perverted women or clueless kids drawn to his brash attitude and powerful quirk.

These gatherings were always tedious. His job entailed tolerating fans who asked for autographs on inappropriate places ( like who in the hell wanted an autograph on their tits?) or requested absurd photos ( Katsuki does not do family friendly photos with annoying and loud brats). He could already tell it would be a long, irritating day. However, the next woman in line didn't seem interested in an autograph. Actually, the chubby short greenette woman, who was dressed as the number one enemy of fashion, didn’t like she belonged this crowd at all. She looked as old as his mother, and if she dared pull out panties for him to sign, he swore he'd swore he would blast her face, leave this hellhole and call the day done, his publicist could screw themselves. Suppressing his irritation, Katsuki managed:

- Alright, lady. What do you need?

The woman in front of him emanated nervous energy. But the woman surprised him, by muttering clearly and softly:

- Dynamite-sama, I'm sorry to disturb you, but I need your help.

Annoyed yet intrigued by her sincerity but also hoping he wouldn’t regret this later, Katsuki asked:

- What's the problem?

Sadly, she replied:

- It's my son. He's missing, and I can't find him.

Bakugou, who wasn’t understanding what this crazy lady wanted from him, scoffed:

- Do I look like a lost and found sector? Get security to help you. I'm working.

Desperation etched her face. 

- My son isn't here.

Exasperated, Katsuki snapped:

- Then how am I supposed in to find him? Look, I'm not here to do hero work today and-

Cutting him off, she pleaded:

- Please, Dynamite-sama!  No one has been able to find him! You're my last hope!

Reluctantly, Katsuki relented:

- Fine. When did you last see him?

She answered, on the verge of tears: 

- Three months ago.

Katsuki rolled his eyes:

- And only now you realize that the fucker is missing? Did you go to the police?

She explained frantically:

- I did, but they've stopped searching.  

Before he could protest further, a girl, with the sluttiest outfit ever, barged in, demanding her turn with Katsuki. Katsuki will never know why they bother when he already announced himself as gay to the press. Annoyed, he shouted:

- SHUT THE FUCK UP, Extra! WAIT ON THE DAMN LINE. 

He urged the woman:

- Go on.

Gratefully, she continued:

- Thank you, Dynamite- sama! As I was saying, I need your help to find my boy! They keep saying to me that it’s common and that maybe he just left home and that he is of legal age but it doesn’t make sense for him to just disappear like that and I’m worried for him. 

Katsuki wasn’t believing he was hearing this shit. Where are the cameras? Is she for real?! But after a deep breath, he said:

- And you thought that I, Great Explosion Murder God Dynamite, would be THE person to help you locate your son, because?

But the woman was unbothered by the sarcasm in there :

- You see, my son, Izuku, is your biggest fan. He's been since you won that UA tournament at fifteen. He always believed you'd be Japan's top hero one day. Izuku has a heart of gold, and this isn't like him. Please, help me find him.

Internally urging himself to agree just to get rid of her, Katsuki sighed: 

- Alright, alright. I'll take the case and start tomorrow.

Tears of relief streamed down her cheeks:

- Thank you, Dynamite-sama!

As she left, the endless line of bizarre encounters continued, like clockwork.

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Katsuki almost forgot about the woman until, after a 15-hour shift, a file fell from his bed shelf. After a long nap, as he organized his room, he found it again—the case of Izuku Midoriya. The case was enveloped in the folder and Katsuki quickly turns past the index and onto the first page, hoping for a photo of the kid missing. Woah, there. The blue folder held a photo that caught Katsuki's attention immediately. The pretty green eyes were the first thing he noticed accompanied by cute freckles darting all around, he had pretty curls that appeared to have life on its own. His face was roundish and his eyes were big, in the photo he was smiling and the background was white. Definitely not a kid, like DAMN. He was charming, unlike anyone Katsuki had seen before.

Case Details: Physical Characteristics:   Somewhat short for his age (21), Izuku Midoriya has a round face framed by a mop of fluffy, dark-green hair that curls at odd angles. His large, circular eyes match the shade of his hair, often appearing watery and wide, giving him an innocent and energized appearance. He bears four symmetrical freckles in diamond formations, with being 21 on his left cheek and 24 in his right cheek. Izuku is often described as "plain-looking" or "not standing out" by others.  

Katsuki paused, incredulous. Also, who the hell described the prettiest boy he had ever seen as “plain- looking” like what the fuck? Who gave this moron the job? He shook his head in annoyance at the description.

Distinguishing Features: Freckles all over his body Quirk: Quirkless

Katsuki raised an eyebrow. Quirkless? Despite his charming appearance, Izuku lacked a quirk. It was surprising.

Last Seen Clothing: White tank top, jeans, white sneakers Circumstances of Disappearance: Last seen at Mustafu’s Public Library, Detroit Street at 4 PM on May 14, 2062.

The notes were sparse, leaving Katsuki frustrated. It had been three months since Izuku's disappearance, and he wasn't a detective. However, the photo of Izuku intrigued him enough to continue reading. According to the file, Midoriya had left the library after borrowing two books, bidding farewell to the librarian, Blair Pamper. That was the extent of the information. The detectives had seemingly halted their investigation there. Tossing the folder onto his bed, Katsuki scoffed at the idea of getting involved. He muttered, turning away: 

- Not my problem.

Yet, as he paced the room, the image of Izuku's earnest eyes lingered in his mind. Hours passed. Katsuki found himself unable to shake off the feeling of unease. Finally, unable to resist his curiosity, he retrieved the folder and flipped through it again, lingering on Izuku's photo. Katsuki muttered, trying to convince himself:

- He's just another lost pretty face.

But something about Izuku's gaze, innocent yet determined, tugged at him. 

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At first, Katsuki's pride kept him distracted, and for four days, Bakugou didn't spare a single thought for the quirkless nerd. However, on the fifth day, thoughts of him resurfaced, and by the evening, Bakugou found himself slouched on Kirishima's couch, his usual intensity subdued. Kirishima noticed the tension in his friend's shoulders, the way his hands clenched and unclenched in his lap.

Kirishima asked, tossing a bag of chips onto the coffee table:

- Hey man, what's eating at you?" Kirishima asked, tossing a bag of chips onto the coffee table.

Bakugou grunted, taking a handful of chips and chewing slowly. He muttered, his voice unusually quiet:

- It's that damn case.

Kirishima raised an eyebrow, leaning forward:

- Case? What case?

Bakugou hesitated, unsure how much to disclose:

- It's... a missing person. Someone I heard about.

Kirishima nodded, sensing Bakugou's reluctance. He encouraged gently:

- Okay, go on.

Bakugou sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair:

- This guy, Izuku Midoriya. He's been missing for three months now. The cops stopped looking.

Concern furrowed Kirishima's brow:

- That's rough, man. Do you know him?

Bakugou shook his head:

- Never met him. But something about it bugs me. Like... I can't shake the feeling that there's more to this story.

Kirishima studied his friend, recognizing the determination in Bakugou's eyes:

- So, what's bothering you the most about it?

Bakugou shrugged, a hint of frustration in his voice:

- I dunno yet. But something doesn't sit right.

Kirishima leaned back, thinking:

- Is he a friend of yours?

Bakugou hesitated, then decided to reveal more:

- No, I don't know him personally. But he's quirkless.

Kirishima's eyebrows shot up in surprise:

- Quirkless? That's unusual. Does that bother you?

Bakugou tensed slightly, his discomfort evident.:

- Yeah... People like him don't always get the attention they deserve. It's like everyone's forgotten about him already.

Kirishima leaned forward, serious now:

- Look, whether he has a quirk or not, if this case bothers you, you should pursue it. Maybe no one else will, but that doesn't mean it's not worth looking into.

They fell into a contemplative silence, the weight of Bakugou's internal struggle hanging heavy in the air. Kirishima knew Bakugou had his reasons, but he also knew his friend's sense of justice ran deep. As Bakugou got up to leave, Kirishima gave his shoulder a reassuring clap: 

- Good luck, man. Let me know if you need anything.

Bakugou nodded, a mix of determination and uncertainty flickering across his face.

- Yeah, I will.

With that, Bakugou left, leaving Kirishima to ponder the mysteries weighing on his friend's mind, hoping Bakugou would find the answers he sought.

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After talking to Kirishima, Katsuki wrestled with his pride and the unsettling feeling that had gripped him since their conversation about Izuku. Despite his initial resistance, curiosity and a growing sense of obligation gnawed at him. Yet, beneath his hardened exterior, a nagging sense of unease persisted. Katsuki sat at his cluttered desk, the soft hum of his laptop filling the dimly lit room. His eyes scanned through news articles and police reports, but his thoughts kept drifting back to one name: Izuku Midoriya.The image of Izuku, a quirkless nobody, haunted him more than he cared to admit. Katsuki muttered under his breath, trying to dismiss the gnawing feeling in his gut:

- He's just another damn case. I don't even know the guy.

But that wasn't entirely true. Over the past few days, Katsuki had immersed himself in the details of Izuku's disappearance. He knew about Izuku's quirklessness, his quiet determination, and his unwavering belief in heroes. Somehow, those details had woven themselves into Katsuki's thoughts, lingering like threads he couldn't untangle. 

He leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his spiky blond hair. He muttered, his frustration growing:

- Why the hell am I so fixated on this?

A memory flashed through his mind—a fleeting image of Izuku's face from the missing person poster. Those large, hopeful eyes seemed to stare back at him, silently pleading for help. It was absurd, Katsuki thought. He had never met Izuku, never exchanged a single word with him. And yet, here he was, feeling a strange sense of responsibility.

With a sigh, Katsuki closed the laptop, pushing it aside with a bit more force than necessary. He stood up and walked over to the window, gazing out at the city lights below. The night was quiet, the streets empty save for the occasional passing car.

Still, as much as he resisted, a small ember of concern flickered within him, igniting a reluctant curiosity that refused to be extinguished. As he paced his apartment that evening, Katsuki finally acknowledged the truth he had been avoiding: this case mattered to him. With a begrudging nod to himself, he made a decision. Katsuki muttered aloud, testing the name on his tongue once more:

- Izuku Midoriya.

It felt foreign yet familiar, like a puzzle piece that didn't quite fit but somehow belonged. He continued his speech to himself:

- I don't know why, but I'm going to find you.

As he turned away from the window, Katsuki couldn't shake the feeling that he was about to embark on a journey that would change more than just his routine. It was a journey that would challenge his perceptions, his pride, and perhaps even his understanding of what it meant to be a hero.

He walked back to his desk and pulled out a worn notebook, flipping to a blank page. Gripping the pen tightly in his hand, he began to jot down notes—potential leads, questions to ask, places to visit. Each stroke of the pen felt like a commitment, a promise to himself and to Izuku.

Hours passed as Katsuki immersed himself in planning, the soft glow of the desk lamp casting shadows across his determined face. Finally, he leaned back in his chair, a mix of determination and uncertainty swirling within him.

With that, Katsuki closed his notebook and glanced once more at the missing person poster pinned to his bulletin board. Izuku's face stared back at him, a reminder of the challenge ahead. Tomorrow, he would begin his search in earnest, driven by a newfound sense of purpose and a growing connection to a person he had never even met.

Tomorrow, he would begin investigating Izuku's disappearance.

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Want to keep reading? Read it on ao3 now!

[katy-l1988]

Chapter III: Addicted

As the days turned into weeks and then into months, Carmilla delved deeper into the world of business. Carmine Industries had become a renowned industry, producing high-quality weapons sold throughout hell. Important figures like Asmodeus himself had shown great interest in her innovations, personally designed by the Lady of the house. However, business success did not come without its price. Darkness slowly crept through Carmilla's veins, corrupting her body and mind. Each workday left Carmilla shattered, exhausted by the weight of her responsibilities and consumed by the madness that overtook her. Constant confrontations with startled demons and the political intrigues dominating the realm plunged her into a constant state of paranoia.

Physically, she experienced alarming changes. She felt as if her bones stretched and rearranged within her skin, making her feel as though every part of her body was on the brink of breaking. Her skin burned with an internal fever that seemed endless, while her once bright and lively eyes now clouded with unsettling darkness. There were moments when she feared she would go blind. Luckily, there was someone who accompanied her in her struggle. Zestial became her faithful companion, sent by Lucifer to care for her. Although initially his presence was simply by order of the King, over time, the demon developed his own motivation to stay by Carmilla's side. Whenever she found herself on the verge of collapse, Zestial was there to support her, easing her physical pain and providing comfort in the darkest moments.

Like the time he entered her office, expecting to find her hard at work, accompanied by the sound of her pencil dancing on paper. Reality couldn't be more different, an odd stillness hung between those four walls, interrupted only by the distant murmur of the city. Frowning, he approached Carmilla's desk and leaned down to look underneath. There, in the dim light, lay Carmilla, with a bottle of alcohol in hand. The dim light filtering through the room barely illuminated her figure, but Zestial could clearly discern the lost gleam in her eyes and the tension in her shoulders.

"What are you doing down there, little one?" he asked softly, trying not to sound too surprised or critical.

"It's nothing, Zestial," she murmured, trying to find the right words as she struggled to emerge from her hiding spot. "Do you need something?"

"No, dear, I was just passing by the neighborhood and wanted to see how you were."

"Oh, I'm fine…thank you," Carmilla replied after a few seconds, waiting to see if he would say or do anything else, but Zestial didn't think beyond the formalities.

"Well, now that I know you're okay, I'll leave."

With a farewell bow, Zestial walked away towards the door, leaving Carmilla in her office with her thoughts. In those moments, her feelings were still a mystery, she was such an admirable woman, and so unattainable. She was just a girl, the culmination of thousands of years of refinement, perfected into a delicate silhouette. What was she thinking? She was God's daughter, his favorite after Lucifer, and he considered himself unworthy of something he considered so pure. Despite the murky nature of the business Carmilla handled, she had never indiscriminately killed or hurt those she believed innocent. She remained as just as when they were above, and he knew she would never change.

As his thoughts fluttered in his mind, he stepped into the elevator to press the button for the first floor, but just as the doors closed, someone descended from the continuous elevator and passed in front of him. Their eyes met for a brief moment, and Zestial felt a shiver run down his spine as the other man gave him an enigmatic smile. A whisper escaped his lips, "Araziel." What would that infamous man want with Carmilla? The mere idea deeply unsettled him.

As the elevator descended, Zestial couldn't help but look up, to the top floor of the building. He imagined Araziel in Carmilla's office, wondering what kind of shady business they could be conducting. Although he had no concrete evidence, his instinct told him that Araziel's presence boded ill. After all, he was never interested in supporting Lucifer, but in saving his own neck from Michael's sword. Finally, the elevator reached the first floor, and Zestial stepped out with firm steps. Although his mind was filled with doubts and worries, he knew he had to keep his composure and move forward. If Araziel posed a threat to Carmilla, he would be there to protect her, no matter the consequences.

Zestial observed the increasingly frequent visits of Araziel to the building, bringing sweets, flowers, clothes, gestures that he deemed too empty. Worried about what he might be doing, he decided to address the issue directly with Carmilla. He approached her one day while she worked at her desk and noticed some fresh flowers placed in a nearby vase.

"Are these from Araziel?" Zestial asked, pointing to the bouquet with curiosity.

Carmilla looked up, surprised by his question.

"Have you been spying on me?" Zestial frowned, offended.

"No, of course not," Carmilla raised an eyebrow, she couldn't lie. "Maybe. But it's hard not to notice when a man sends you flowers so frequently."

Carmilla became defensive, crossing her arms over her chest.

"And what if he sends me flowers? It's none of your business, Zestial."

"I know, but…" he tried to explain, but Carmilla cut him off abruptly.

"I don't need your opinion on my personal life, understood?" she said, her voice rising with each word. "So I would appreciate it if you stopped sticking your nose where it doesn't belong."

Zestial felt hurt by the acrimony in Carmilla's words, but he knew he couldn't back down.

"I'm sorry if I've offended you, Carmilla, but I'm just worried about you. Araziel is not to be trusted, and…"

"And what? Are you now the guardian of my morality?" she interrupted him again, with a flash of anger in her eyes. "I don't need anyone to tell me who I can or cannot associate with."

"Yes. You're right. You're an adult woman and can make decisions on your own."

With a resigned sigh, Zestial walked away, leaving Carmilla alone. He couldn't help but feel a profound anguish for her. He knew Araziel was a danger to anyone, especially after disappearing from their lives, but he also understood that he couldn't force Carmilla to see the truth if she wasn't ready to accept it. Meanwhile, in the office, the seraphim slumped heavily into the back of her chair, feeling the weight of the argument, an unusual event. Part of her was uneasy about Zestial's warnings, and the other was desperate to feel loved again. The sound of the phone interrupted her thoughts, and as she answered, she couldn't help but wonder about the spider's reasons for spying on her. But for now, she decided to ignore her doubts and move forward with her own plans.

The phone call was from Araziel, who invited her out that night. Wanting to distract her mind from work, she eagerly accepted the invitation. Shortly after, the fallen angel arrived to pick her up, and together they headed to a nightclub. The atmosphere was charged with energy and excitement, and Carmilla was swept away by the music and flashing lights. Throughout the night, they shared laughter and conversation, and for a moment, Carmilla was able to forget her worries and enjoy the moment.

Carmilla was carried away by the intoxication and seduction of Araziel, unable to resist his charms in her vulnerable state. Her senses clouded by alcohol led her into a whirlwind of confusing sensations as she found herself enveloped in the arms of one who, until recently, was just a memory in her mind.

In a moment of fleeting lucidity, Carmilla realized that something was terribly wrong. Her mind struggled to break through the veil of drunkenness, reminding her that her tolerance for alcohol was considerable and that she shouldn't be so out of control. But before she could react, it was already too late. Araziel had her cornered against the wall, his seductive words echoing in her ears as she fought to find a way out. Fear gripped Carmilla as she realized the trap she had fallen into. She tried to fight against Araziel's grip, but her efforts were in vain, much like what happened with Adam. Carmilla deeply regretted having fought with Zestial, praying that even after the argument, he would still be spying on her. But at that moment, she was completely alone, at the mercy of one who had once been her downfall and now revealed himself as her worst nightmare.

"What's the matter, pajarito?" Araziel whispered with a mocking smile, his hot breath brushing against Carmilla's ear as he held her pinned. "I thought you'd like to fly again."

Carmilla swallowed hard, feeling disgust and anger mixed within her. Araziel's words made her feel small, defenseless, as if she were prey in the hands of a cunning and ruthless predator. On one hand, she hated herself for being so vulnerable, for allowing herself to fall once again into the clutches of someone like him. She berated herself in her mind, wondering how she could be so foolish, so weak, how she could allow herself to be used again. As her lips met Araziel's in a kiss filled with desperation, tears welled up in her closed eyes. She felt as though she were betraying every promise she had made to herself, every ideal she had fervently defended. But at the same time, there was a part of her that was swept away by the intoxicating sensation of the moment, a part of her that desperately longed to feel desired and loved, even if it was by someone as despicable as Araziel.

Although she knew she was playing with fire, it was as if an irresistible force propelled her forward, as if she were trapped in an endless cycle of self-destruction from which she could not escape. And amidst that emotional whirlwind, there was something unsettling about the way Araziel held her, something that made her doubt her own perceptions, her ability to distinguish between right and wrong. Was there a part of her that desired this, that enjoyed that depravity as much as he did?

Then, she woke up, with a heavy heart and a mind clouded by a pain she had not experienced before. On the nightstand, a note written in elegant cursive accompanied a tray with tea and cookies. With trembling hands, she picked it up and began to read the words printed on the paper. The letter, though brief, was filled with sweet words and compliments, promises of future encounters and gestures of affection. For a moment, Carmilla allowed herself to be carried away by the illusion that maybe, just maybe, she could find comfort in Araziel's arms.

"Carmilla? Are you there?" Zestial's voice echoed through the intercom, full of concern. "Hey, I wanted to apologize. I know I had no right to spy on you, but you must know that I thought I was doing the right thing."

Carmilla struggled to get up from the floor, stopping in front of her friend's image on the screen.

"After all, it's what guardian angels do." He chuckled to himself, awaiting her response. "Milla, are you there?"

The woman's finger hovered a few millimeters away from pressing the button to answer; she knew exactly what he would say upon seeing her in that state, and the last thing she wanted was to face the possible humiliation of admitting her weakness to him. Pride was her greatest sin, just like her brother's. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes as she wrestled with her own conflicting emotions, wondering if she would be able to face the look of disappointment in Zestial's eyes if she showed him her true, vulnerable, and fractured self.

With a resigned sigh, Carmilla finally made a decision, accepting that she wasn't ready to confront Zestial's words at that moment. She watched in silence as her friend's image disappeared from the intercom, feeling a weight of guilt mixed with relief in her heart. Once she was sure she was free from interruptions, she sat down on the bed, feeling the mattress embrace her tired body. Her eyes landed on the tray. With trembling hands, she picked up the tray, and as she savored the breakfast Araziel had prepared, she allowed herself to indulge in a brief moment of indulgence, setting aside her worries and fears for just a moment to simply enjoy the comforting taste of the food. If this was her hell, she would find a way to make the most of it.

Thus, the relationship between Carmilla and Araziel became a decades-long dance, a power game in which both had a role to play. Carmilla, accustomed to being in charge of everything, found a perverse pleasure in relinquishing control to Araziel, allowing him to take the lead in her bed and in her life. Araziel, on the other hand, was like a insatiable wolf, always hungry for more, for power, for dominance. His presence was intoxicating, his touch a drug that left Carmilla craving more, even knowing that each encounter dragged her deeper into the darkness of her own damnation. She became addicted to that toxicity, finding a strange satisfaction in the sensation of danger and abandon that accompanied each encounter with Araziel. Although her rational mind knew it was a dangerous game, her heart longed for the whirlwind of emotions he provided, clinging to it desperately, even when reason told her she should flee.

The routine repeated itself over and over again, each encounter hotter and wilder than the last, each dawn bringing with it a mixture of pleasure and guilt that threatened to consume her completely. Deep down, Carmilla knew she was trapped in a cycle from which she could not escape, that her fate was inexorably linked to Araziel's, and a ring was just a way of letting him see.

"Then you got married," Carmilla had gone with Rosie to ask her for a new dress, since the ones she had were a bit tight.

"I guess it was only a matter of time," she said, looking at herself in the mirror. She had given a part of herself to Araziel, a pact that went beyond the physical and delved into the depths of their souls.

"Are you happy with that?" Rosie was one of the few born in hell in whom Carmilla fully trusted, from the first moment she was very attentive to her. Now, as she adjusted a tape measure around Carmilla's waist, she smiled.

"Happy?"

Carmilla let out a bitter laugh, more a sigh of resignation than a gesture of genuine joy. Rosie's words made her reflect on the nature of her relationship with Araziel, a union marked by passion and intensity, but also by darkness and manipulation.

"I don't know if 'happy' is the right word," Carmilla finally replied, her voice laden with ambiguity. "It's complicated, you know? Sometimes I feel like I'm drowning, like I'm trapped and can't escape. But other times… Well, there are moments when I feel alive in a way I've never experienced before."

Rosie nodded understandingly, her eyes reflecting empathy for Carmilla's situation.

"I understand what you mean. Relationships, especially in hell, are rarely simple."

Carmilla noticed Rosie's understanding gaze, a spark of surprise flickering in her eyes. Although she had always admired Rosie's strength and confidence, she had never imagined that she, too, faced her own personal battles.

"Forgive me. I spoke as if I were the only one with problems," Carmilla asked curiously, feeling an unexpected connection with her friend. "It's just… you always seem to be okay."

Rosie let out an ironic laugh, adjusting the tape measure around Carmilla's waist with a mechanical gesture.

"You can never know the reality behind a smile, dear," Her voice had a somber tone, laden with past experiences. "My ex-husband was a jerk, often crossing my boundaries, and he ended up tangling with someone much worse in the end."

"And why were you with him for so many years?"

"For the same reason you married the jerk Araziel," Carmilla was momentarily speechless, surprised by Rosie's frankness. "Sometimes, it's easier to cling to what we know, even if it hurts us."

Rosie continued to take measurements as she changed the subject, trying to lighten the mood with a touch of humor.

"By the way, it looks like someone has been eating too many chocolates," she joked as she took notes in her agenda.

Carmilla let out a nervous giggle, aware of her oversight. Rosie gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder, softening the tone of her words.

"Don't worry about it, darling. With everything you've been going through, it's completely understandable! Besides, your breasts have grown quite a bit, which is good since before you looked like a board."

Carmilla blushed intensely at Rosie's comment, feeling uncomfortable and embarrassed by the direct observation about her body. Instinctively, she covered herself with her hands, trying to hide her body as her face burned with shame. Though she struggled to keep a straight face, she pushed her friend away to make her stop.

"Oh, I'm sorry, honey!" Rosie exclaimed, laughing, as she tried to contain her joy. "I couldn't help it. But seriously, don't worry so much about a few extra pounds. You look beautiful anyway!"

Later, Carmilla bid farewell to Rosie with a warm hug and a forced smile, trying to hide the growing anxiety within her. She appreciated her friend's company, but a sense of unease persisted in her mind as she walked through the dark streets of the city. Nervously playing with the ring on her hand, she tried to clear her mind, but worries continued to haunt her like shadows in the night. Every step she took echoed in the silence of the night, increasing her sense of loneliness and vulnerability. She forced herself to take deep breaths to calm the nausea that was beginning to rise, fighting against the wave of discomfort that threatened to overwhelm her.

Carmilla had barely walked a block when she felt someone following her. Her heart began to pound in her chest, and a shiver ran down her spine as she nervously looked around, searching for any sign of danger in the shadows of the infernal night. Then, suddenly, Araziel appeared at her side, his sudden presence causing Carmilla to come to a sudden stop, her nerves on edge.

"Araziel!" exclaimed Carmilla, feeling a mixture of relief and anxiety at recognizing her husband. "Did you follow me here?" she inquired, her tone reflecting her irritation and distrust.

"I just missed you so much, mi parito," Araziel said, as if it were the most natural explanation in the world, as they continued walking towards the elevator terminal. "Come on, I made a reservation at Ozzie's."

The name of the place made Carmilla shudder slightly. Ozzie's, Asmodeus's house, a venue known for its atmosphere charged with eroticism and lust. It was not exactly where she wanted to be at that moment, she knew exactly what they were going for. Asmodeus was known for his arrogant and boastful attitude, especially when it came to his reputation as the embodiment of lust. There was no doubt that he would seize the opportunity to humiliate her, as he did with other demons. The idea of being exhibited as Araziel's property filled her with disgust, but for the time being, she decided to play his game, even though her heart beat with a mixture of anxiety and disgust.

Araziel didn't let go of Carmilla at any moment as they walked to the terminal, one only accessible to demons born in hell, or like them, born in heaven. His grip was firm, almost possessive, as if he wanted to make sure she didn't escape.

Once inside Ozzie's, it was as if the atmosphere itself was imbued with palpable sensuality. Neon lights blinked in vibrant hues, illuminating the place with an almost hypnotic intensity. The loud music resonated in their ears, mingling with the whispers and laughter of those present. It was a place where the darkest and most sinful desires mingled freely in the air. Asmodeus observed from his position behind the scenes the two fallen angels, as they sat at a table near the stage. The way Araziel ordered on behalf of Carmilla did not go unnoticed by him. He knew that in that relationship, Araziel exerted dominant control, relegating Carmilla to a secondary role.

But the sight of the two wasn't the only thing that caught Asmodeus's attention. He also saw Zestial in the distance, who had spent the last few years wandering in the Ring of Greed. A malicious smile formed on his lips as he plotted a way to play with them. He knew beforehand that Zestial had some kind of interest in the Duchess of Hell, as she was often called in those days, given that the title of "princess" had been occupied by Lucifer's daughter. Asmodeus decided it would be entertaining to play with the dynamics between the three of them. He planned to take advantage of the situation to test Zestial's limits and provoke a bit of chaos in the process. He was a master at manipulating the emotions and desires of others, and this situation promised to be a deliciously twisted game for him. With a mischievous look, he prepared to enter the scene and start his little game of seduction and manipulation.

"Carmilla, my Lady! What a surprise to see you here!" exclaimed Asmodeus theatrically, bowing slightly like a courtier of hell.

"Asmodeus, it will always be a pleasure to see you," Carmilla responded, trying to maintain her composure despite the discomfort she felt in his presence.

"And what brings you to these sinful lands?" he inquired with genuine interest.

"It's our anniversary," Araziel replied with a proud smile, gripping Carmilla's hand tightly.

"Oh, really! How many years has it been?" Asmodeus asked, raising an eyebrow with genuine interest.

"Too many to count," Carmilla replied with a forced laugh, trying to divert attention from the uncomfortable question.

"Don't be modest, dear! For us demons, a century is just a few minutes of our vast existence," insisted Asmodeus, with a playful smile that revealed his enjoyment of putting her in a tight spot.

Carmilla exchanged a quick glance with Araziel before responding cautiously, "A millennium."

Asmodeus put a hand on Carmilla's waist with a familiarity that made her tense slightly. His playful smile widened as he gave Araziel a mocking look.

"A thousand years, you say!" he exclaimed with a tone of feigned disbelief. "It must have been quite a challenge to keep her satisfied for so long, Araziel! Or do you have some tricks to share with us? I would love to hear them."

Carmilla looked away, trying to ignore the intense gaze of the demon. Asmodeus, having set up his play, headed towards where Zestial was. He ordered with a simple gesture to the imps in charge of lighting to turn on a spotlight on Zestial, highlighting his figure amidst the darkness of the venue. The woman, seeing Zestial shining under the spotlights, felt a mixture of emotions that hit her hard. For years, she had wished to see him again, but she could never reach him. Unable to contain herself, Carmilla jumped to her feet, her heart pounding in her chest as she stared fixedly at Zestial, as if time had stopped around her.

[verosvault]

🚨SPOILERS FOR FANTASY HIGH JUNIOR YEAR EPISODE 8🚨

Dimension20 "Fantasy High Junior Year"

Episode 8 "Fracas at the Frostyfaire Folk Festival"

Timestamp: 00:16:14

Video Length: 3min. & 37sec.

Kristen gets a vision and hears a familiar voice! 😱 + Theories about Cassandra and the Pride Armor!

Brennan: "As you do so, all of you hear Kristen's stomach growl and gurgle as well."

Kristen's stomach: *gurgling sounds; magical chimes*

Emily: "Is it contagious?!" 😭😭

Brennan: "And Kristen, you get a sudden flash of red. You are back in the wizard's food court for a second. You see glass and red light. You hear a scream of a familiar voice and sudden silence. And then you look into Adaine's open eyes as you are reviving her, and you see a reflection in her eyes of blood splattered on the ground somewhere."

Ally: "Is the voice Cassandra?"

Brennan: "It is not Cassadra's, but you cannot delve deeper into that. It's a voice you recognize, but you can't get more information about it."

Fig: "Okay, Cassandra had someone coming after her. Did it seem like that? 'Cause I've been thinking about the fact that she's doubt would completely destabilize the entire pantheon, right? If gods get their power from faith, and she's doubt, she might have had a mark on her externally-"

Kristen: "Oh, Interesting."

Fig: "...from your ministrations." 💀

Kristen: "Yeah."

Adaine: "Yeah, maybe it's not your fault at all. Maybe it's completely nothing to do with you."

Kristen: "I think I... Yeah, I definitely killed her, but I do wonder-" 😭😭

(players snickering) 😂😭💀✋

Kristen: "Okay, okay. Wait, wait, 'cause this kinda feels like thematically what everything is ****ing feeling like at school. Aguefort represented nuance and weirdness and he's gone, and now it's extremely strict and by the book."

Fig: "Yeah, and without doubt, you just have rigid faith, which shatters and has no flexibility."

Riz: "Is it possible that things are being changed right now by Aguefort being back in time?"

Kristen: "Oh my gosh, yeah."

Adaine: "Oh. That he's changing things in the past that are affecting things in the present?"

Ally: "He's like- microwaving a burrito and it's ruining everything." *Laughs*

Riz: "Also, can we talk for a second about how insane that was?"

Fabian: "Yes, wait. I wanted to let you guys get your thoughts out. What the **** just happened?"

Riz: "Dust mites, and then you just got knocked out?"

Adaine: "I'm assuming this has just been in a box for, like-"

Riz: "Fig was just helping you read a book."

Fabian: "Everyone felt like- Did everyone else get shrimp vibes from that?"

Kristen: "That was shrimp vibes."

Fabian: "Just kind of like a nasty chain reaction?!"

Fig: "Yeah! It's me, okay? Look, my Bardics are cursed, I think. I think I'm cursed."

Siobhan: "Can I do an Arcana check on Fig?"

Brennan: "Do an Arcana check right now."

Emily: "I lay down like a patient on a table."

Siobhan: *rolls dice*

Lou: "Yes, I'm also going to do an Arcana check."

Siobhan: "24. I got a 24."

Murph: "Yeah, I'll Investigate Fig."

Emily: "Everyone Arcana check me!"

Murph: "21."

Siobhan: "How yogurt-y is she smelling right now?"

Brennan: "As you guys put these texts and tomes to the side and begin to Investigate Fig-"

Murph: "I know what I could do. The Gregorian Necktie can do Detect Evil and Good."

Ally: "Ohhhh."

Siobhan: "Oh."

Emily: "Oh, well."

Murph: "Well, Outside of just the-"

Brennan: "As you do the necktie, it beeps, and a fiendish aura surrounds Fig, not her own innate one."

Siobhan: "Ooooo!"

Riz: "Okay. Yeah, no, you're cursed for sure."

Fig: "Yeah, I think-"

Fabian: "Totally cursed."

Fig: "I think whoever- I put Wretchrot on it. I'm trying to find out-"

Riz: "Oh, good."

Fig: "Yeah, yeah. I deputized Wretchrot."

Siobhan: "Reliable."

Fig: "I'm trying to find out, I think it's whoever owned the pride armor."

Riz: "We don't know who that is."

Fig: "I'm paying, maybe, a debt that Gilear owes."

Kristen: "Yogurt!" 😂🤣💀

😂😂😂 The laughs!!! It really sounded like Kristen had cracked something!!! 😂🤣💀😭✋

Fig: "Yes?"

Siobhan: "I was thinking it's 'cause he was a straight man wearing pride armor."

Ally: "Yogurt! Yeah, the pride armor was rainbow." 😂😂🤣🤣🌈🌈

Siobhan: "I'm an ally! The A stands for ally!"

[covenofwives]

The Cure for a Spiral

DreamXD is panicking over his upcoming talk with Dream. There's just so much he has to say and so much explaining he has to do but his self-doubt make him spiral. GeorgeHD has the perfect solution to keep him on track.

Next part in the AU. Sorry this one is so short.

---

The only times DreamXD ever felt fear in his life all involved Dream.

He remembered when his brother was sick with a fever for the first time and XD was clueless. He scoured the libraries for any medical books and followed the instructions down to the smallest details till Dream was nursed back to health.

Then when Dream went missing one day and XD would have torn the End apart to find him. The relief and frustration he felt when he finally found his brother couldn’t be matched.

When XD had learned the server was in a hunt for Dream, his heart leapt to his throat and he couldn’t dare watch anymore as Dream was dragged, kicking and screaming, to the prison.

And finally when he heard the booming call of the End portal being opened, XD knew in his heart that it was Dream. He was fully expecting the sight of his brother’s lifeless body waiting for him at the end and prepared himself for it. He did not have time to express his relief when he saw both he and George were alive. The anger came first.

Now DreamXD felt a new kind of fear, once again tied to Dream. The fear that he had backed off too much and he had severed any chance of a relationship between himself and Dream. The thought pained him to dwell on and kept him up at night worrying.

He knew he had been drastic in his actions when he interrogated Dream, but in the moment he could excuse it as being important. Now it was over and XD was swelled with guilt and the need to make amends.

As promised in his note to Dream, he met with his brother a couple days later. This time XD stood outside while Dream spoke from the doorway of George’s cottage. George just right behind him.

It had been so long since XD had seen George, or seen Dream and George together again. It was nice to see them close, depending on one another again, and it hurt XD he couldn’t be that close with them again.

The three spoke, though it was mostly Dream and XD. They came to the conclusion they needed to have time to speak and clear the air between them once and for all. Years of misunderstandings would be aired and handled.

So Dream proposed a time to talk next week. It would be held in George’s cottage for ease to Dream and XD agreed. And now every day since then, he’d been nothing but fearful.

“I mean, like it’s not a super serious talk, you know? But…well it will lead to probably serious stuff. It’s a lot we probably have to talk about.”

XD explained to GeorgeHD. Or, more rambled on to him. The sleepy God lounged over his fort of pillows and blankets, but he was oddly alert and interested in XD’s words this time. Probably because XD mentioned it was about Dream.

XD never asked what happened between HD and Dream when he left his younger brother in the care of the God, but it must have been positive. Every time XD visited he asked about Dream and how the mortal was getting on and would frown when XD admitted he hadn’t worked up the courage to speak to him. Now he told HD that the two were talking and HD was all ears.

“But it’s a sudden thing right? To suddenly delve into years of misunderstandings so like it can’t be expected to be serious stuff right away. I think it’s like laying it all out first you know then we’ll work on stuff from there. That makes sense right?”

XD looked at HD expectantly for an answer. The older God said nothing for a while until it seemed he realised it was finally his time to speak. “I’ve never seen you this nervous.” Was the first thing he said.

XD’s cheeks went red and he fought back the urge to pull his mask on. He had even gone without the wraps around his eyes, showing the void of blackness and his ever moving eyes in front of HD, though it was nothing the other God hadn’t seen before. Today XD was too wound up to have the wraps on.

“Well it’s a lot to be nervous about!” XD huffed.

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way.” HD lazily held up his hand before pushing himself to sit up properly. “Though I was worried if you didn’t stop and take a breath you would have been the first God to die from suffocation.”

“I…” XD could feel himself wanting to ramble again, and he took in a breath and slowed himself down. “I just want things to go smoothly. I don’t want to fuck this up. Dream’s giving me a chance to talk.”

“He’s probably just as nervous as you are.” HD assured him. “He’s probably pacing back and forth, worrying over every little thing he’s going to say to you.”

That was a nice thought to have. Not on his brother being nervous but the idea that Dream was listing out everything he’d want to say to XD to try and make this better was a hopeful thought. Too hopeful for XD to believe. “I don’t think he wants to speak to me.”

“Trust me, he very much does.”

HD sounded so assured and XD couldn’t help but be curious. “Has he…said anything to you?”

One of the corners of HD’s pillows caught the older God’s attention and kept his face turned down to inspect it. “It’s not my place to say. Dream should get the chance to tell you.” He looked up again. “But you’re worrying too much, I promise you. This isn’t a one chance he’s given you, he wants to talk to you as much as you want to talk to him.”

XD didn’t believe it, but he held his tongue on it. Dream certainly wanted to explain himself for his stunt and maybe he was owed that, but he couldn’t really imagine his brother wanting to talk with him. They had drifted too far apart.

“Come here.” HD suddenly pulled XD from his thoughts. A few of their ephemeral hands set up pillows for HD to lean back on, and one placed over his lap which they patted for XD to lay down.

This seemed suddenly far too nice for HD, but XD played along. He shuffled himself over and lay down with his head over HD’s lap.

“Do you have a plan to talk?”

XD looked up, watching HD watching him. It was a little unnerving, but it was also comforting in a strange way.

“Well…y-yes I do.” XD cleared his throat. “So I think we should talk about what happened in the End. I didn’t really explain things properly with him. And I never gave him a chance to explain himself. So I think opening with that is better.”

Even as XD said the words he could feel doubt filling his head. “A-Although…maybe talking about how we stopped talking in the first place is better? We could start from the beginning and work towards where we-EEE!”

A hand suddenly squeezed into his side. XD jumped, squealed and looked down just in time to see the white ephemeral helper hand of HD disappear. He looked up to HD while curling his lower arms around his sides in protection. He silently asked for an explanation.

“You were doubting yourself, and rambling off point.” HD nodded along to his words as though it was expected. “Now. Take a breath and focus. You’re going to talk about the End. Work from there.”

Like that is easy to do when the hands could appear at any moment. XD glanced down to his sides again but the hands were gone. He had no way to know when they’d appear, so he just swallowed his worry and tried to speak clearly again.

“I… I’m going to talk to him about the whole thing with the End. I’ll let him explain himself then I’ll speak from my point.”

XD gave a look up to a nodding HD who decided that was allowed.

“Then I was going to let him say whatever he wants to say.” XD continued. “like for all the years I did wrong, and try to smooth things over when I can. But…” Self doubt started to creep in. “I don’t want it to feel like I’m springing all this on him. Like-Like he doesn’t have to explain himself if he’s uncomforta-HAHA!”

Apparently that was not the right thing to say either, as another hand appeared from nowhere. XD saw it too late and could only manage to half curl his legs up before it tasered into his sides. He gave a very high squeak before breaking into giggles.

“H-Hehey!”

“You spiralled.” HD said like it was obvious. “You need to not do that.”

“I-I wasn’t spiralling.” XD defended himself, then yipped when the hand appeared again, this time at his other side. He managed to get his legs curled up and his arms blocking his sides and ribs. “N-Noho!”

“You doubt your own plans and get in your head about how Dream will react. All you need to be focusing on is how you react and how you come across as to Dream.”

XD thought the hand would disappear with just a warning, but it stayed, and it slowly drifted closer to XD’s side. He tried to turn away, but HD’s hands softly fell on his shoulders, holding him down as he helplessly looked up.

“HeheDehehehe…”

“You need to get out of your head.” HD decided. “And what better way to get you out of there?”

The hand touched upon XD’s side, making his skin jump. It got to the bit just behind XD’s top, skittering more along his back than his sides. XD cursed his more revealing back now more than ever. It didn’t tickle a lot, the fingers just skittering so lightly along his back, but it made him giggle.

HD’s thumbs rubbed into XD’s shoulders, making soothing circles into his skin. The younger God held back a soft moan. His muscles slowly relaxed without his control, making him more giggly to the fingers fluttering along his side. It was making him more tickly and distracted him from the hands materialising by his feet.

XD was allowed a few seconds of soft tickles before the hands by their feet grabbed their ankles. They made a loud squeak, and tried to pull against their legs being forced to stretch out but it was pointless. They had one on each of his ankles and one poking at each of their soles.

“HeheDehe…”

“4K is so right. It’s absolutely tragic your feet aren’t ticklish.”

A blush crept up from XD’s shoulders to his cheeks. He curled his toes to the strange tingling feeling running over his feet. It wasn’t ticklishness, but they did feel more sensitive whenever 4K or HD mentioned them.

“Y-Yohou and him are too obsessed with my feet.” XD challenged back.

“Well it’s unfair. That spot is tickly for both of us. It drives 4K mad even, but we can’t get good revenge on you.”

XD knew about HD’s tickly feet but he’d never gotten the change to tickle 4K’s. Whenever the God took off his boots around XD it was usually when they were settling down for a nap. Although now that XD thought about it, it was odd he was the only God among them to wear footwear. Like he was protecting them.

“4K’s feet drive him bad?” XD tried to ask casually.

“Oh yeah. Hysterics.” HD shrugged. “He still loves being tickled there but he can’t help but kick and roll and curl up to try and protect his feet. Too sensitive for him to keep still, he had to be held down when he asks for feet tickles.”

A lot of details flagged in XD’s head but the main one was that 4K had, at one point, specifically asked for his feet tickled and HD complied. Before XD could do anything with that fact, a quick skitter ran across his ankles, making him bark out a laugh.

“Wh-Whahat!” The skittering followed a long continuous tickle across his ankle. XD had been so busy processing the information HD gave him he didn’t notice the tickling stopping at his side or the hands no longer poking at his soles. “N-Nohohot fahahair!” XD chirped and tried to pull his legs away.

“Your ankles being adorably ticklish make up for it I suppose.” HD smiled.

“Ihihit’s nohohot adohorahable! S-SToHOhoHOHOP!”

The hands danced their tickly dance up XD’s ankles, travelling further up his legs till it reached his knees. He whimpered and pleaded through giggles, but when the hands squeezed his knees and skittered along the sides, his laughter turned soft and his pleading slowly stopped.

“I got your kneeeees~” HD’s voice was a gentle whisper.

“D-Dohoooon’t…”

“Don’t? Don’t get your knees? Or don’t stop tickling your knees?”

XD kept quiet and HD didn’t press on. They both knew the answer and it was obvious with XD little whine when the hands stopped their tickling. It was then XD noticed his ankles weren’t even being held anymore.

“So, what’s your plan with Dream?”

HD’s voice was a soft purr, nestling in XD’s head and drawing his thoughts to the surface. “Give Dream a chance to explain himself about the End. Then I’ll explain my side.”

HD slowly nodded. “Right. And then what?”

One of the older God’s actual hands came down by the right side of XD’s face. They could feel the fingers playing with a strand of their hair. “Then I… I don’t know…” XD admitted. Their body tensed, expecting to be tickled suddenly, but they were left alone.

“That’s alright.” HD’s voice eased their tension. “You have years of confusion to work through, you can’t be expected to have a plan for it.”

XD gave the slightest of nods, agreeing in part. The words of Dream ran through his head again as he thought of it.

“Why do you need a plan for me?! Why can’t you just talk with me first?! You’re my brother!”

“I think I’ve been planning too much.” XD admitted. “I think instead of planning I should have been talking to Dream.”

“The last horse crosses the finish line.” HD half chuckled. He pressed a kiss to the top of XD’s head to show no hard feelings. “It won’t be easy but I know you love Dream more than anything, and Dream is your brother. So your stubbornness for love is in him too.”

“I hope he doesn’t have my lack of forgiving nature.” XD grimaced but pulled himself to sit up. He felt weirdly rested, like he’d taken a nap.

“You both just need to talk and take it from there. It wouldn’t be fixed overnight, or even over a week, but you both taking the first step is the right thing to do.”

XD could agree with that, though talking about the first step and actually taking it were two different things. It wouldn’t help matters either that George would be there. While XD loved George as much as he loved Dream, and George deserved a chance to explain his side too, the God couldn’t help feel like it was a two on one situation. Even though he knew that idea was ludicrous. He was God for Prime sake, it wasn’t like it was unfair.

“Do you want me to come with you?”

Like a soft bell ringing in his mind, the dark clouds of doubts cleared and XD looked over to HD.

“Really?! I-I mean...would you? Would that be okay?”

XD did not want to presume their friend’s offer was just talk but they worried HD wasn’t ready for the Overworld again. XD still hadn’t gotten to ask HD about their status as the Overworld God. Or the fact he used to be the Overworld God. It seemed too personal and whatever happened made HD avoid the place.

But he offered to accompany XD so easily, and without a trace of regret on his face. HD just simply shrugged. “Well, I need to start going back to the Overworld sooner or later. And this might be a good easing in. I’d just be there less than a day. Plus, you said Dream would have his friend with him so I’m sure Dream wouldn’t mind you having one too.”

“Oh!… Then-Then yes! If you could!” XD felt his heart lift with excitement. “It wouldn’t be unfair of me to have company. And Dream likes you! So it’ll be perfect!”

For the first time in a while, XD felt excited on the idea of meeting with Dream. Years of mistakes XD promised he would make right, and he’d help Dream through whatever he was going through. It wouldn’t be too late. XD promised himself he’d fix this.

[thefirstknife]

Season of the Deep cutscene reveals

I don't even know how to begin this but oh my god. The cutscene. The origins of the Witness. I am absolutely on the floor right now. I will post the link as soon as we have it but until then, I'll try to do it justice with screenshots. This is absolutely groundbreaking for the whole setting. I'll put it under just in case (also it's long). Seriously don't click until you watch the cutscene:

First things first, the prediction was correct! The first victims are the Witness' people!

This matches with the first message from Ahsa, about the first victims being "nomads and wanderers." They appear to have discovered the Traveler:

It's interesting how it's shown here. As if rising from the ground. Probably artistic visual to show that it gardens and transforms the earth around it, but maybe it might also be showing that this was the first spot it showed up to garden. As if it emerged here first. The rest of the cutscene seems to support that, given that the Pyramid ships did not exist before this so there was nothing to chase it. So it was either gardening before this without being chased or it never gardened before and this was the first place it touched as it spawned into the universe.

This matches the stuff about how they ended up getting to live in a big city in an oasis. The Traveler did for them it did for us, helping them get into a golden age. But as the messages from Ahsa said, they wanted something more from it, which isn't what the Traveler wanted to give them.

I love love LOVE how ominously it shows them building what would later become the Pyramid ships.

Man. Chills. And then their discovery of the Veil! Interesting information; they didn't make it or have it inately, they found it by studying the Traveler. This lends credence to Ahsa's messages where she talks about "two halves of a whole long divided" as being about the Traveler and the Veil.

They went out to find and take the Veil, which they did. The Black Fleet already fully developed. It's interesting how the Veil is show up there without the Tree of Silver Wings/roots section.

Super cool stuff about how they got to perceive the Light as negative:

They already knew much about the Light. How it could bend the laws of the universe and create life. But they came to realise that it could bring ruin... just as easily. The cosmic events it set in motion could wipe out entire civilisations in a heartbeat... without reason. And so they saw the Light not as a source of prosperity... but of unfettered chaos.

This fits with how the Unveiling describes the Gardener deciding to pursue complexity and the Winnower being entirely put off by the mere idea that things could grow to be complex, uncontrollable and chaotic:

Your new rule will only make great false cysts of horror full of things that should not exist that cannot withstand existence that will suffer and scream as their rich blisters fill with effluent and rot around them, and when they pop they will blight the whole garden. Whatever exists because it must exist and because it permits no other way of existence has the absolute claim to existence. That is the only law.

This side of the Darkness philosophy despises chaos. It despises the idea that everything can develop as it wants, that there's no order, no goal, no rules, nothing special to strive for, just free will and your own choices. It seems that the Witness' people came to this conclusion too as they delved into studying the Darkness and started regarding the Light as too chaotic and without rules to follow. Without rules, there is no way to control anything and things can go in directions you can't predict which deeply troubled them. That means that anything could happen, including entire civilisations being destroyed for "no reason." Talk about an existential crisis.

The object in the top left corner showed up as they mentioned the Veil which seems to imply that this is their symbol for it and it's really really good because that's the symbol we know from Rhulk's Pyramid:

Here it is looming over Lubrae; is the Veil responsible for the power the Witness used over Rhulk and for Rhulk which led to Rhulk rising as a disciple and destroying Lubrae?

Darkness is described as:

And then The Woman :) with the text as she appears and gets sliced:

And in the Darkness they found the means to carve away the chaos of existence. To calcify it into a final shape. Eternal... and perfected.

Much to think about what the statue means now. I'll have to rewatch this and everything about it a few more times. But after this detour, it's revealed that the Witness' people returned the Veil to the Traveler and tried making a connection, just like at the end of Lightfall, in order to "reshape reality itself." Big potential implications for the portal:

But the Traveler said no and left. And then it happened.

Having witnessed the truth in the Darkness, they used its binding power to merge themselves... into the salvation they craved. Thus began the Witness's pursuit... its campaign to impose meaning on a meaningless universe.

The reason the Witness has a smoke filled with faces above its head is beacuse that's all of the Witness' people merged together into one being, eternally in pursuit of the Traveler (Gardener), to "reshape reality itself" and to "impose meaning on a meaningless universe."

There are a few very grim scenes of the merging which shows a lot of of dismembered bodies in the shape of a triangle just piling up and then something akin to their essences being pulled into one to create the Witness. Incredible stuff.

Wildest shit I've ever seen. Seems also like we're on a good track with the general theme the game is setting up here. The Darkness is a power of the mind and consciousness and was used to create this being. They learned so much about the Darkness by studying the Veil and the Veil is inextricably linked with the mind and consciousness as well. Its link with the Traveler could, apparently "reshape reality" which, again, interesting implications for the portal now and possibly strengthening my theory that in order to enter the portal and survive, we must get in by transferring our consciousness or perhaps merging our consciousness with something.

Still much to learn about! And we might, given that Sloane has told us that Ahsa and her bond became too weak for Ahsa to also tell us how to get through the portal, but that she will be ready to say more next time.

This season might actually end with telling us how to go through, which I did not expect at all since we have two more seasons to go after that. But then again, this will be just in time for us to be ready for the August The Final Shape showcase; perhaps knowing how to get through and what's on the other side are the basic necessities to understand the showcase at all. Which might mean that getting through and knowing what's on the other side aren't even close to being the biggest mysteries of what's going to happen in TFS.

Absolutely insane. I will be rewatching this cutscene on repeat until the end of my days. I will never be a normal person again after this. So much stuff to think about and try to put into place now with this hindsight. I'll definitely be looking over some stuff again now that we have this information.

[tonydaddingham]

i was rewatching s1 yesterday and i had a thought that is bothering me a bit.

thing is, as much as i love the flashbacks (i dare say sometimes they are my fav part of the episodes), i think they are messing up a bit with the storyline. i love that they show us how their relationship developed over time, but i think sometimes they’re going a bit too far considering the point we find them in different points of history.

you’re gonna tell me that the same aziraphale that went through everything they went through in the land of uz then could bot possibly think of helping crowley with the arrangement? that the same aziraphale that looked like that at crowley in 1941 then was like “heaven will win and it’ll all be rather lovely” when talking about the final war between heaven and hell?

if you think of the events in chronological order, they just, don’t make much sense.

oooooh anon i like where your head's at!!!✨

now, below the cut is a disgustingly long spiel going through each flashback and minisode, that tbh was just simply self-indulgent - a lot of it leans into philosophy and ethics (for which i also apologise but it's a Special Interest) and i realise that that may not have been - at all - what you were looking for in a response.

so, to give a tl;dr - i personally think the way that aziraphale parries back and forth in his character development makes perfect sense. it does seem very much like one step forward, two steps back, at times - that i grant you - but i don't think it was ever meant to be strictly linear as time has gone on. more that it's a delve into how and why aziraphale makes the decisions that he does, what factors might be influencing him to make those decisions/behave the way he does, and what this says to us about his reluctance behind the apocalypse and the events of s2.

pre-fall:

so to my mind, we immediately learn some crucial things about aziraphale, right from the get-go. he's polite, and kind - even without having really gotten a formative impression of the angel who crowley was (AWCW). but once he does (and develops his little crush), he becomes astutely interested in what AWCW's doing, asking questions about his work and its purpose. he shares information about his own work, not realising ahead of time that a) AWCW wouldn't have known the plan for his creation, b) how upset he would be once learning it. he's very cautious when AWCW starts getting lairy about it, intimating that he's prepared to challenge god (however innocuously he meant it) on her plan, and evidently feels - expresses - some kind of fear that it would lead to reprisal.

garden of eden (4004BC):

this is an aziraphale that seems very much to be proven right, when you take the above pre-fall context into account. the fall has happened, and aziraphale now is even more aware of the consequences of stepping out of line. but aziraphale is naturally someone who dances that line, when you consider that he gave away his sword - which he suspects to have been the wrong thing to do. so when confronted with crawly, this person that he used to know as an angel, it only hammers home that aziraphale has to behave, and be in fear of the worst possible outcome, which has now been actualised. the punishment - arguably the worst punishment possible for an angel - has happened, it's irrefutable, and there's nothing to say it can't happen again.

so aziraphale valiantly tries to remain the devout, loyal, upstanding angel - and at this point genuinely believes heaven to be the side of good and light, even if he panics when he acts in a way that shows his own true colours... ones that are arguably not very angelic at all (grey). he counters crawley with heavenly rhetoric when it's clear that he at least thinks crawly has a good point, he even laughs with him over a joke that could literally mean his own ruin, and abruptly catches himself, stops laughing. to me, he's scared and, by all accounts, has good reason to be.

mesopotamia (3004BC):

so here we come to aziraphale in the thick of attempting to be a true agent for heaven; we immediately open with him acting somewhat with unease at the proceedings, even before crawly appears (hands, shifting on his feet). once he has to explain to crawly what's going on, he shares the rumour (rumour, because the line is "from what i hear, god's a bit tetchy...") that god is wiping out the local population. crawly is obviously aghast, especially when aziraphale confirms the children too - but aziraphale is equally, albeit more taciturnly, repulsed by it. his meek, bracing, tight-lipped '...mhm!' pays testament to that.

but aziraphale, once again, cannot speak out against god and heaven - he simply can't, the risk is too great. plus... well, he has to have faith in god, that she is good and just, and this is all the right thing to do; what could it possibly mean if god is awful? aziraphale isn't awful, we know he's (by large) a naturally kind and gentle person - so if god is not that, and aziraphale loses faith, what does that mean for aziraphale? doesn't that make him bad? evil? so no, he has to rationalise for god, and heaven, and ultimately himself that this is all for a greater purpose - god isnt wiping out all the locals! she's going to put up a rainbow! promise not to do it again!

uz (2500BC):

okay big section (op note: first of many to come, as it turns out) here. for ease, im going to be writing the following with the below metas in mind:

that god doesn't actually intend/want to hurt the children, but to honour free will will not get involved (X)

an oddly poetic ditty on the lies in job, and seeing through them (X)

slightly unrelated but i think worth bearing in mind: i personally think the s2 minisodes are recounted from crowley's pov (X)

so aziraphale seems to have arrived in order to stop crawly getting up to some mischief, and is countered that crawly (on behalf of satan) has essentially been granted some kind of diplomatic immunity to carry out the destruction, namely, of job's goats, and his children. obviously crawly is going to do no such thing, but places the blame for the whole thing squarely on god. aziraphale, however, does not think that that is in fact what god wants (and tbh, re: the first linked meta, i think he's half-right). so, whilst still thinking that crawly is there to actually do harm, he tries to cajole crawly into doing the right thing. they then work out that, for all intents and purposes, they are actually on the same side by nature of sharing a common agenda. crawly tests him again in the mansion, but aziraphale has seen through him, and they remain united.

where it gets tricky is the ox-rib scene. aziraphale doesn't initially recognise the free will that crawly is acting upon; he's not on hell's side, so ergo he must be on heaven's side. the concept of being on your own side evidently is shocking to aziraphale - above all, it just sounds lonely. aziraphale asserts specifically that he is on god's side (which i think, tbh, is a pretty telling thing in and of itself - he doesn't say 'heaven'). and still believes he is acting by god's true will; however, crawly counters that he's talking about the god that wants him to hurt the children. aziraphale hesitantly agreed that yes, that is the same god he's talking about... "but-".

now, idk how aziraphale was going to end that sentence, but id like to think that he still disagrees with crawly's conclusion - to agree would void everything that he said before, right? everything he said with tentative conviction. so, at best, aziraphale would have argued back that crawly is wrong, and that's not what god wants... but i do think aziraphale sees god's lack of intervention as troubling, at the very least... because if god didn't want it to happen, why didn't she stop the storm above them destroying the house? i think he's now put back in a position of being very uncertain as to what god wants... in which case, how can he possibly argue against crawly's assessment? he can't, because he's literally just borne witness that god hasnt intervened on any of it. ultimately, aziraphale still doesn't quite understand the concept of free will, and how he's just as capable of it as anyone else - in helping to save the children, he wasn't acting in accordance with what he thought god's will was, but instead based on what he himself considers to be the right thing to do.

and then we come to the last couple of job scenes; he helps crawly in the trick to bring back the children to job and sitis, and, on the cusp of their subterfuge being revealed, lies to the archangels under immense pressure, under the weight of the knowledge, even in that moment, that he will fall for it. his fear, stemming all the way back from eden (and arguably before, even if only a fear of consequence), has been brought to its reckoning. at the rock, he is adamant that he's going to fall - he "lied, to thwart the will of god" - and has resigned himself to it. crawly obviously states he's not going to deliver aziraphale to hell (and presumably the fall has some physicality to it; ie. aziraphale doesn't feel like he's fallen anyway). but then crawly reveals that aziraphale might just - just - be more on his own (their? not yet?) side than he previously thought. and frankly, i think that scares the fuck out of aziraphale; he's not crawly, he's not confident/headstrong/convicted enough to do that, and besides - hell seems to be fine with crawly doing his own thing as long as his work is done ("i go along with hell as far as i can")... heaven presumably wouldn't at all let that slide. aziraphale can't afford his own side; there's too much to lose.

golgotha (33AD)

immediately we're confronted with not only a more cynical crowley, but almost - i think - a more cynical aziraphale, and the way they act definitely makes sense to me in a post-job context. crowley immediately jabs at aziraphale, thinking that aziraphale would act righteous in seeing jesus on the cross - and yet, aziraphale counters that he's "not consulted on policy decisions"... which begs the question of what aziraphale would have said or done, if he were. we know he tried arguing back in job against gabriel and michael about what the plan was for job, and i don't think this would have been any different... if he had been given the chance.

this exchange though, i think, is one of the best bits of dialogue in all of s1, and potentially gives really interesting insight into where aziraphale stands at this point:

because... well, jesus is not only the son; he was a good and kind person, attempting to teach others to do the same. isn't that what god and heaven stands for? but no - the policy decision, god's plan - is that her son must die... brutally, and in tremendous pain and suffering. that surely can't be something aziraphale can reconcile easily - and yet, with job in mind, he absolutely can. i think he knows its wrong, that it's not right, but it is - this time - absolutely god's plan. and what happened the last time that he intervened? that fear still lives in aziraphale here, i think; and plays a major part in not only aziraphale having to quash what he thinks is the right thing to do, but also forces him to accept that what god is doing must be right and good. it must be for a reason, that god is allowing this one, and aziraphale is still in a place where he fears acting against god could have dire consequences.

rome (41AD):

tbh i don't think there's too much to say on this; it's clearly a more personal scene than the heavier ones that have come before it. i do think that aziraphale being keen on seeing crowley again does speak to crawly's line about how having your own side can be lonely, and aziraphale is readily seeking companionship from the person who knows how that feels? maybe? to add to that, the callback to tempting crowley into the oysters - all feels very acutely like the events in the job minisode might have been on his mind. we know from the script book that aziraphale is there on a heavenly assignment too (tutoring nero), which might play into the loneliness even more. so whilst aziraphale may not be entirely comfortable with having his own side, i'd like to think this scene certainly indicates he's made some personal reflection on the concept.

wessex (537AD):

another (we presume) heavenly assignment of fomenting peace - and i don't think aziraphale and crowley have seen much of each other since rome (going by aziraphale's slip, yet again, in his name). but what transpires is the realisation that their respective head offices essentially have them cancelling out the other's actions, resulting in crowley putting forward the idea of the arrangement. aziraphale isn't immediately opposed to it, not outwardly - but he does poke holes in the viability of it. he initially baulks at the prospect of lying to his superiors (given job, it's fair that he'd be pretty reluctant to chance doing that again), and then finds out that the surveillance that heaven seems to keep on him is not a risk that crowley feels from hell; "...as long as they get the paperwork."

so immediately, we're shown that the chance of discovery is higher with aziraphale, and the associated risk of that will again drum into him that he needs to toe the line very carefully. i don't think the arrangement necessarily offends him on a personal level - im sure that the logic appeals to him, as well as the chance to slack off - but that crowley would... almost tempt him into it? or at least try to talk around his concerns, and still try to push him? at the very least, it scares him off. though, frankly, i think it did work; not only by 1601 does it transpire that they have in fact done favours for each other since this scene, but even the dialogue... the below screams to me somewhat 'lady doth protest too much':

globe (1601):

a few things are apparent in this; that aziraphale is pleased to see crowley again, that they are meant to be meeting in clandestine/crowded settings to avoid detection, and the arrangement has been in effect - in all but name - for some time. the latter is interesting; aziraphale clearly doesn't have an issue personally with the premise of doing favours for each other, but he draws the line at making it an official thing. if heaven ever asked why aziraphale was doing what he was, he presumably knew he could at least attempt to talk his way out of it, retain some semblance of plausible deniability, but if it were acknowledged that he and crowley have a formal arrangement, that increases the risk.

but it's no longer just the risk associated with heaven; it's the risk associated with hell. compared to 537AD when aziraphale indicates that his reluctance is complete to do with the potential repercussions from heaven, this time he seems more preoccupied with the repercussions crowley could face from hell. now, it could be that aziraphale is using it as an excuse - a cover for his true concerns that lie with his own safety - but i don't think so; over a millennium has passed since wessex, and they've clearly met "dozens of times" since then. i think aziraphale's concern does shift over to what would happen to crowley should they be found out. again, he looks happy to see him, and it's crowley that first remarks that the globe was meant to be busy. if crowley presumably is the one more worried about detection, aziraphale would understandably take that to be a reason for concern (despite what crowley says, "[they] don't actually care how things get done, they just want to know they can cross it off the list"), but nonetheless he agrees to the arrangement.

paris (1793):

this time, we learn that aziraphale is actually being monitored relatively closely; heaven is keeping an eye on his miracle usage, claiming that a sufficient number of them are frivolous to warrant a strongly-worded note from the supreme archangel himself. it therefore stands to reason that whilst he still absolutely could miracle himself out of this situation, he attempts to talk his way out of it first. but it also, once again, reinstates that discovery of the arrangement, and their affiliation, is very possible.

crowley turns up, freezes the guard, and 'rescues' aziraphale, who then learns that crowley is taking advantage of humanity coming up with their own atrocities, and claiming credit for it (and initially - and mistakenly - taking that to mean that the reign of terror must be crowley's doing) - but when that's been cleared up, and he thanks crowley for the 'rescue', crowley counters that expressing that specific thing out loud could lead to consequences from his bosses (ie the arrangement doesn't matter because the job gets done, but actively helping the opposition on a personal level? big no-no... which makes me wonder how crowley is possibly able to separate the two... by doing blessings etc., surely he is helping the opposition?). both of them vocalise very clearly that they're aware of the risks - both expressed and subtext - of them interacting with each other closely, but equally they both have no intentions of stopping it, or holding off until things have died down. they're both under scrutiny, and yet still proceed to play with fire by going to lunch.

in terms of what this means for aziraphale's own character development, i personally think it indicates how his feelings for crowley have been emerging since around 1601; the threat of discovery is real, but the friendship, companionship, and the feeling of being understood and known is more and more compelling. but aziraphale isn't stupid, he still knows that there is danger involved with the two of them associating so closely, but i think at times he loses a grasp on how very real that danger is, because of the feeling that crowley gives to him instead (maybe not love, on either part, just yet - but certainly a sense that crowley is very important to him).

edinburgh (1827):

i'll readily admit that i found this minisode a really difficult conundrum when trying to reconcile its events with aziraphale's character development so far, but i think ive at least gotten part of the way there? maybe? (and a small reminder of my... hesitancy... in whether or not this minisode is from aziraphale's perspective).

so aziraphale seems to still be very much set in the black-and-white perspective, right? more than that, he's stating that angels and demons do not have the free will to choose to be anything other than what they're meant to be - good and evil respectively - whereas humanity gets to choose. and stating the obvious, but aziraphale doesn't understand that the reality of being human (poverty, in this case) means that morality doesn't always have a place in survival, and therefore free will gets slightly skewed in that you end choosing to do something you perhaps wouldn't otherwise do, if you felt you had a true choice.

you could argue that this is a regression from the previous history that we've already looked at - and initially i would agree... but i think we have to consider that throughout all of this, aziraphale considers himself - and tbh, he is - a good person. so far, his actions have proven that, bearing in mind the overarching 'threat' (however far you want to extend the scope of that) of heaven, and he extends his empathy to those that are also good on their own merit (including crowley!). but what aziraphale is now having to contend with is what happens when circumstances mean you don't have much room to be a good person; does that condemn them? does that make them worthy of punishment? how can it, when everyone just doing their best with what they have?

when we get to the conversation with dalrymple, the surgeon explains the reason why the bodies are needed in the first place. what i think is also interesting about aziraphale's rationalisation of this whole quandary is the following:

because aziraphale has a point. he's understanding where dalrymple is coming from, acknowledges it, but it's the exploitation angle here that he's now unable to reconcile. sure, fine, you need the bodies for medical advancement, but you're using people who will do anything to earn money to survive, encouraging them to put themselves at risk - both physically and spiritually (from aziraphale's unique perspective) - to do so? that's wrong! ...but dalrymple also has a point; wouldnt it distract him, a surgeon, from the greater good? bodysnatching is at best quasi-legal, and faces sentences up to and meeting execution; why would he risk getting himself so directly involved? and by-the-by; isn't this something that aziraphale, in his own situation with heaven, could empathise with?

aziraphale then learns why the bodies are the in-demand commodity that they are - he's confronted with the consequence of insufficient medical education, and that actually the work may be, whilst through immoral action, working towards a greater good. before, it was just simply for the purpose of better understanding the human anatomy, but the tumour puts in perspective the bigger picture; that a series of objectively immoral actions leads to arguably the greatest moral achievement possible: eradication of preventable and needless suffering. i think that this is where it starts to really resonate that morality is not absolute, and that right and wrong are intrinsically linked by nature of the context* and consequence upon which you judge them. (something something about stepping away from the deontological and instead towards the more consequentialist - perhaps even utilitarianism?*).

***

slight tangent but: if we look at this very thing*, for a moment, with two other scenarios in mind, we know that aziraphale still struggles with separating morality in terms of action and consequence... or is it just simply very intricate? he did struggle in job; he felt he was condemned to fall because he sinned in lying to the archangels - an immoral action - but ended up choosing to lie because it would mean preventing three needless murders, of children no less - ie. a moral consequence. at surface level, a very consequentialist decision.

then, in 2019 with the antichrist; crowley tries to persuade aziraphale into killing warlock in order to stop the apocalypse; in this instance, *the action poses a significantly more serious and graver moral dilemma, even if the end result would be to save the entirety of humanity - the context is very different. in this, aziraphale doesn't budge, and consistently rebuffs crowley's attempts to get him to do it, even when he acknowledges the greater good killing the child could bring. this is more deontological. now, it could be a question of whether aziraphale is reluctant because it would disobey heaven's orders, or because of his own personal moral code, or perhaps even both - but regardless, aziraphale strives instead to find a way around avoiding killing warlock/adam, and come up with a different solution that would bring about the same outcome.

***

but back to the resurrectionists; aziraphale then arrives at rather a misguided conclusion - when he returns to elspeth and morag to offer his assistance, he says:

suffice to say, that is absolutely not what elspeth's angle is here - so again, aziraphale seems to fumble the point entirely. i have toyed with the contrary idea that aziraphale in fact does now understand elspeth's motivation, and does now understand what crowley was saying to him earlier, but has to 'pretend' somewhat that the only reason he wants to help is because of the 'alleviating human suffering' thing (so that essentially if heaven asked why he was encouraging immorality, he could explain it away as being for the greater good), but idk how far i see that... it's possible, but when they move to the graveyard, and crowley points out the advantage that those with money and privilege have in preventing the interrment of their bodies (and the poor "just have to lump it"), he asks aziraphale pointedly if he's alright with this. aziraphale evidently isn't, his face says that enough, but he doesn't voice it.

but then morag gets blasted; she's not even meant to be there, but is just so they can get the job done easier and quicker, and out of love for elspeth - because elspeth asked her to. aziraphale's penultimate moral quandary lies in whether he saves her or not; by his own admission, it's against 'the rules', so to speak, but he can't stand to see something so preventable happen because he chose to follow those rules - not to act. harking back to immoral action leading to moral consequence, that dilemma is put in a very personal context to aziraphale; sure, disobeying the rules might be wrong, but if the consequence of the obedience is far worse? i won't confidently say that he fully learns from the experience, but i do think it sticks with him.

what i feel is worth noting about aziraphale, when they come back to the mausoleum, is that it seems that aziraphale is the first to spot the laudanum on the tomb. not only that, but he can't barely keep his eyes off of it. (*suicide tw*) the interaction that follows immediately feels that aziraphale enters the role of negotiator; his tone is level and calm, he positions himself very warmly and openly, but slowly edges closer to her, and keeps her talking. crowley similarly edges around the room, trusting aziraphale to keep her distracted, so he can swipe the laudanum for himself. obviously crowley then controls the rest of the scene, and used a more dramatic approach in deterring elspeth from taking her own life.

part of that however is by getting aziraphale to give elspeth the contents of his wallet, so she can immediately find herself in a better position in order to make better choices; had she been turned back out onto the streets, and without morag, it probably would result - as crowley said - in her continue to risk her life to earn money, or killing herself before she even gets that far. (*end suicide tw*) aziraphale looks suitably chastened at carrying a substantial amount of money all this time, i think in part recognising the privileged position that must place him in in elspeth's eyes, and shakily hesitates about giving it to her. i do think he knows that the argument he gave at the beginning of the minisode has crumbled somewhat (now that he has seen the full consequences of being in that position), and he looks to crowley in askance to reinstate the holes in that logic as crowley previously said them - and he doesn't argue any further.

elspeth promises to do good, and aziraphale hands it over. it harks back to one of my beginning points; having the free will to choose to do good is only really possible when there isn't an external factor that prevents you from doing so. alleviate, or remove, that hardship - as the 90 guineas did - and there's no reason to think that elspeth won't, in fact, choose to do the good and right thing. before, she was considerably compelled to do bad things - but now she truly is in a position where she can choose. ultimately, aziraphale and crowley have no guarantee on her promise, there's no threat of repercussions if she lied or ends up going back on her word, but ultimately that is free will; the best they can do is put her in a position where she is able to make a choice. that is the right thing to do.

1862:

and so we're back to another dilemma, this time of the more personal kind; crowley asks aziraphale for holy water. ive entertained multiple theories on whether crowley has been in hell since 1827, whether he's been pulled into hell on multiple occasions since 1827, or something entirely different has happened, but all have the same result - crowley is paranoid, he's standoffish, and he's asking for something that he says won't be used to destroy himself, but instead as 'insurance' (which tbh, despite what he said, reads very much like it could be used against other demons or himself). furthermore, aziraphale is cold and distant; marking that something potentially has happened between the two of them, or that aziraphale is aware that they are very much out in the open, and he has to watch how familiar he is with crowley.

the holy water seems to be very much a line that aziraphale is unwilling to cross; and his first reason to not do so is because of the risk it poses to crowley. i don't think it can be denied at this point that even if it's not romantic love - not completely, anyhow - they definitely care for each other. aziraphale is positively vehement that he won't be responsible for crowley's destruction, deliberate or otherwise, and i think a lot of his reaction comes from the fact that crowley would even ask this of him in the first place (and this is of course presuming that aziraphale knows nothing of what prompts crowley to ask for it in the first place).

when crowley retorts that that's not his plan for it, aziraphale is still resistant, and instead adds the further risk that it poses to him personally - that if heaven got wind of it, their arrangement and relationship (of whatever nature it is) would be discovered. it is, doubtless, a substantial risk to aziraphale, but given that he manages to get his hands on it in 1967 without much trouble (at least, that's the impression given), i think that the first reason he gives - that concerning crowley's safety - is probably the truest one.

regardless, it's definitely a line that aziraphale is unwilling to cross, so much so that it descends into them throwing words that evidently hurt the other, and seem to lead them to not even speaking to each other for nearly 80 years. and this time it's not even because the action itself is immoral - aziraphale doesn't indicate that gaining holy water itself is forbidden or difficult - after all, you can visit your local church and odds are that you can nab some pretty easily - but because the potential consequence would be losing crowley forever.

i don't know how far i take this particular interaction to be one deeply concerned with aziraphale's general ethics or sense of morality; more that he just simply cares for crowley a great deal. maybe that informs on his moral alignment more than im giving credit for, idk. we could look at it that aziraphale should absolutely trust crowley - trust his word that he isn't intending to use it on himself - and that perhaps is true, but the sheer fact that aziraphale would be giving crowley something so inherently dangerous to his own person is a very valid reason not to do it, morally or sentimentally - especially as it appears to be a very sudden request without much explanation behind it, to make aziraphale understand why it would be necessary.

1941:

starting with the s1 snippet of 1941, we learn that aziraphale is double-crossing the nazi operatives. to give a rundown of the events that i think likely led to the church scene, aziraphale would have initially denied (or stalled) the nazis' request to find and deliver the books, despite the offer of quite a lot of money (which, let's face it, we know is frankly inconsequential to aziraphale; even without the element of being a celestial being that can miracle up money, we know he's a landlord of some tasty real estate in soho - he's hardly strapped for cash); aziraphale is not stupid, nazis are the bad guys. but because he denied/stalled them, they send in greta posing as a british MI agent to encourage aziraphale to do as the nazis asked - as she likely put it to aziraphale - so that 'british authorities' could take it as an opportunity to apprehend them.

i don't think the above is a stretch - why else would greta have been involved, posing as a home agent, if aziraphale wasn't initially reluctant? - and gives a clear situation in which aziraphale would simply not do something that could help the axis effort. he's not avaricious, and certainly doesn't need wealth, so money holds no sway for him in this; but regardless, he likely stands personally, morally, opposed to the nazis entirely, without hesitation. furthermore, to aziraphale's mind, they are the antithesis of everything that heaven also stands for; he lives in the heart of london, and (as s2 shows quite literally) is surrounded by the destruction caused by the blitz campaign.

moving on to when crowley arrives in the church, i know it's a point of contention that aziraphale assumes that crowley must be involved with the nazis' set up, and that's a fair point. i too find it hard to reconcile, especially given the parallel assumption during 1793 was shot down immediately. however, if we presume that aziraphale and crowley haven't seen each other since 1862, it could be aziraphale still reacting very personally as a result of their argument (i daresay that, for these two, 80 years isn't really that long a time to hold a petty grudge)... but to be honest? crowley still takes assignments from hell, and if there is anything - to aziraphale - that seems like a hellish creation, it's the nazis. as hell's earthly representative, it's not an illogical conclusion to arrive at. but, of course, as crowley rightly says - some of the worst things are purely humanity; free will is a double-edged sword, and humanity has capacity for great evil as well as great good. and aziraphale does know crowley; if crowley had confirmed that he was involved, i think aziraphale's reaction would have been that much more visceral.

then we get the Epiphany that is aziraphale realising he's in love with crowley, and - i'll say it repeatedly - i think he possibly realises that crowley feels something for him too... which sets the whole tone for the continuation of 1941 in s2. i don't think (my brain is like soup at this point, so im sure anyone reading will correct me here) we get much more in 1941 that speaks to aziraphale's moral code until we get to the end, when they're back in the bookshop:

because it's a culmination of everything that they've been through so far, right? that doing the right thing and doing the wrong thing, that good and bad, are interwoven with each other, that one can sometimes define, necessitate, and validate the other, and that everyone - including them - are capable of doing both good and bad things. looking back over their history to date, it's one of their main commonalities - their respective non-conformity to the assumed attributes of their respective sides - and one that binds them together. obviously the irony lies with heaven itself hardly being 'the good place', even if it's meant to be, in the first place - but these are two beings that are unique in their experiences on earth, among humanity, which have led them to developing very complex moral codes that recognises (to varying degrees) that good and bad are not absolutes.

which ultimately leaves us a little confused when we get to 2008, right? as you said, anon - how do we reconcile this aziraphale with the one that is hesitant to stop the apocalypse? well, i think it's almost certain that we've got a missing scene here, one that will be answered in s3; but even looking at s2 - aziraphale's assessment of hell being the bad guys has been cemented in 1941. not only are they in cahoots with the nazis (as far as aziraphale sees it), but they have posed a danger to crowley personally. aziraphale saves the day, but all his concerns about the arrangement have been supported by this one event in the dressing room.

so whilst the black-and-white conversation seems to leave 1941 off on a happy note, take into account any possible imaginings of what happened afterwards, and we'll probably end up with not only the reason why aziraphale chooses to acquiesce to crowley's request for holy water... but also why it appears that they have somewhat cooled off in their association with each other right up until 2008. the risk - originally completely hypothetical - of being caught out in the arrangement has now been made manifest by hell, and there is likely a remaining associated risk with heaven also catching wind. as such, it's not inconceivable that aziraphale retreats back to being incredibly hesitant to cross the company line, hesitant to once again get caught up in this little bliss that has started to emerge (ahhh, love), and instead puts his stock back in at least acting like he is a scrupulous angel of heaven.

1967:

tbh, ive kind of covered that above; there has to be something that develops out of s2-1941 that would cause the tonal shift from the candlelit bookshop, to the alienation in 1967. aziraphale is curt, and short, with crowley - after hearing that crowley has chosen to source holy water by some other means - but is convinced enough to get it for him, and prevent any accidents in crowley acquiring it himself. personal theories aside, i think something must happen that hammers home to aziraphale that having a weapon with which to defend himself, even if there's the further risk to crowley by possessing it, is more important than allowing the risk of crowley being dragged to hell by demons to await whatever Bad Thing/s happened whilst he was there (either in 1827, or at some other point between then and 1967).

so against his clearly-set boundary, aziraphale gives it to crowley. he has to trust that crowley isn't going to use it on himself, or be reckless with it - even going so far as to hand him a flask in his own goddamn tartan pattern* - and still firmly draws the line that whilst maybe one day in the future they'll be able to interact with each other, be together (however romantically-intended or not you want to read that), they can't right now. at the moment, the main reasons that im reading into 'you go too fast for me' is a combination of aziraphale being concerned for crowley's wellbeing (and the risk their association places on that, if we consider 1941), but also because aziraphale himself isn't ready to fully step away from heaven. bear in mind that a lot aziraphale's identity is wrapped around being an angel, and being good - if he were to shirk all of that off, stick it to heaven... where does that leave him? what does that make him? what consequences would that have? in this respect, amongst others, aziraphale is still very much trapped in that same fear as he had in job - but now there's the added context that he's actually in love with crowley, only serving to raise the stakes of all that he has to lose.

*i cannot for the life of me remember where i saw the meta; but someone made the connection that giving someone your tartan, or dressing them in it, is essentially to say that they are your family/clan - uniting in a side - and that they are important to you. it's particularly eye-opening when you take into consideration that aziraphale starts wearing the tartan - as far as we see - after 1827, and when you look at instances of when aziraphale further bestows the tartan on crowley (the bike rack, the jacket collar). perhaps it wasn't ever intended to have that connotation, and it's purely hc, but as a way of aziraphale, potentially, wordlessly telling crowley that he recognises that they are on their side, that devotion and care is still there, even if they now can't risk being seen together? magnificent

modern day (2008-2023):

i promise im getting near the end of this

so the end of 1967 brings us up to present-ish day, and whilst im sure crowley and aziraphale have met up since 1967, i honestly don't think it's been incredibly often, not judging by their first interactions with each other in 2008 as we're introduced to them. but the first major issue - as you pointed out, anon - is that aziraphale is reluctant to stop the apocalypse happening. he hangs on to it being god's plan, and that he can't interfere with it. it does seem, on the surface, to be a regression of his character development, but tbh i don't see it that way at all.

aziraphale is still dancing a very thin line where he has to not only go along with heaven as far as he can, but also has cling to the idea that heaven represents good and light. he hasn't broken away from this yet, and honestly - how could he? what would it mean for him, what could he stand to lose, if he accepted that god and heaven may not be wholly good? what does that make him? it's a safety blanket that, sure, we can observe is one he should have abandoned long ago, so what is stopping him? imo, it's a combination of his self-identity being wrapped up in his being an angel, but also i think a good helping of fear of what could happen if he walked away (nod to omelas); the fear of the unknown is often more frightening than the known.

aziraphale might suspect that the archangels are the corrosive influence in heaven, but he still clings to belief that heaven in the first place was always intended to be good and right. but was it? heaven was once just... heaven. it wasn't good, it wasn't bad, it wasn't really anything - the creation of the fallen, and their descent into their domain (conjecture here; we still don't know what actually happened in the fall), was the element that defines that divide... the fallen challenged/abandoned god, and continue to corrupt her creation, and so they must be the Bad Guys. doesn't that therefore make... heaven the good? it's easy to see where aziraphale arrives at this conclusion - how all of the host arrives at this conclusion, frankly - but angels, i don't think, were ever good in the first place, nor was/is god. they just... are. but produce the concept of an opposite, in every way conceivable, and naturally it becomes a split between good and evil, too. aziraphale is an angel; he is good. crowley is a demon; he is bad. aziraphale is an angel who is just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing. crowley is a demon who is, at heart - just a little bit - a good person. to aziraphale, they may subvert the expectations that their kind would indicate, but it is still who they are at their core.

but back to 2008; aziraphale starts off asserting that heaven - "we" - will win, and it'll all be "rather lovely". i don't think aziraphale has any choice but to believe this, even if he knows what he stands to lose if it happens; crowley waxes on about everything that aziraphale enjoys and will disappear with the apocalypse, but it doesn't convince him. (there's a split second where he seems to have a Moment at the mention of the bookshop, which - yeah, he loves the bookshop and his books, but also everything that the bookshop has represented? hm.) crowley continues on as they approach the bentley, and aziraphale is clearly dithering, almost like it's wearing him down (bc, of course, crowley is right) and making him considerably uncomfortable (and fearful?), to the point that he snaps at crowley to stop.

once they're in the bookshop, aziraphale's guard comes down, and you can tell that he's lamentable about losing aspects of earth/what he can expect from eternity in heaven as crowley points them out. aziraphale becomes a little more candid; "even if i wanted to help, i couldn't. i can't interfere with the 'divine plan'." now look, read into the first bit that aziraphale doesn't actually want to stop armageddon, but... on a personal level, he absolutely does? he doesn't want to lose everything that crowley is pointing out to him, and certainly doesn't want to be subjected to the sound of music on repeat for all eternity - aziraphale absolutely does want armageddon to not-happen, but equally wants to keep his nose clean where heaven and god are concerned. and frankly, when crowley gives him a plausible excuse of chalking aziraphale's efforts to prevent the apocalypse up to it being a ruse to thwart The Demon Crowley... aziraphale practically crumbles like a wet paper bag.

im going to stop at 2008 because honestly this response is obscenely long as it is, and i think how his character develops through s1 and s2 is a lot more apparent (i also think ive talked about it in other asks somewhere, too). but ultimately my personal assessment of aziraphale through the flashbacks/minisodes is that whilst he hasn't had a huge overhaul of his character, his ethical and moral identity has developed and deepened, and remains very complex. there are also, imo, a lot of extenuating factors that influence what he considers to be right and wrong: the threat of heaven, and of hell, the fear of falling and/or losing the identity that he has (and fearing what would happen if he adios'd that entirely), his faith in god, his evolving sentiment and love for crowley, and his fondness of humanity. he may not have made great leaps and strides, resulting in becoming a completely different person, but i don't think that the moral dilemmas posed in the flashbacks wee necessarily meant to do that? more that they are an exploration of the intricate moral code that aziraphale possesses, and how each of these experiences inform on how he chooses to act - or not act - in others as time goes on.

[jasminedragonart]

Since the Loki show keeps appearing on my dash I want to tell you all what I would have done if given an opportunity to write for such a great character as Loki.

For one, I would get rid of the selfcest. No doppleganger genderbent love here.

Instead, I would delve into the myths. Do you have any idea how interesting the fact they're the Norse gods are? And how canon just ignores that. Like, I'm pretty sure it's stated that they were born relatively early, so they're born after the myths were created. How does that work? Are they named after those gods? What is Asgard? What are the 9 realms. How did Thor get the asgardians from Asgard all the way to earth without a bifrost? What was his plan there?

See, because it's interesting. Before, we were told the only way to travel the 9 was through the bifrost. The bifrost is basically a realm doorway, and without it people can't travel the 9. So how was thor going to get his people to earth? It makes sense that Loki was on that ship because he knows how to travel between the gaps. He shows us it in the Dark World. I want to explore that.

Loki is a character that knows so much more than he's letting on. If I were going to make a show I want him pursuing knowledge he doesn't already have. I want him asking questions about midgard, about where they got these myths from and exploring the power behind the name of Loki.

Like, just imagine if he wasn't the original Loki. (I'm basically outing myself here but I wrote a cringe worthy fic ages ago about something similar to this. Do not look it up. It is in a shameful ship I no longer associate with. I went down a rabbit hole and, well, those days are behind me.) BUT! If he is the real Loki, or if he isn't then I want him exploring his Jotun heritage. Giants in almost every mythology are more than just these big guys that are taller than us. A lot of the time they're basically the essence of something. There are giants that make up the sea, the mountains, like the mountains are literal giants. We could have had that explored. Is Loki an ice giant? What does an Ice giant mean? How do his powers come into this?

I want him finding the very fates themselves and asking these questions. Asking why he was made to play this role and why he's doomed to do it in almost every timeline, every universe. Is it predestined? Why do the midgardians know about Ragnarok? Why do they know about Hela before Loki and Thor do? Where do the Vanir come into this? Where are the other key players in Ragnarok and how can Loki stop it and actually be a hero in his own show?

I would have explored so much of this and I hate that Disney isn't. Quite frankly I think they've wasted the multiverse idea on a character that had a lot more going for him than this. And the truth is they aren't even doing the multiverse right.

anyway marvel I would be more than happy to retcon your current loki show and write a new one for you.

[breath-of-void]

What Legend of Korra left on the table

In my previous post, I talked about how Korra should not be losing fights because of how being the avatar works, now I’m going to talk about all the interesting things that were going on that they just dropped, ignored or changed.

The entire equalist subplot was dropped after Amon’s reveal!

Why!?

I get that it was a huge betrayal to find out that the man leading your revolution against benders is also a bender... but the guy had a point! I find it hard to believe that everyone collectively went back to their regularly scheduled lives after finding the courage to voice their unhappiness with the status quo. A nonbender was elected president, how many benders were happy with that decision? Were there people claiming it was a “diversity” hire and he was not qualified? There were interesting ways this could have been delved into, perhaps with more Tales of Ba Sing Se type episodes.

Unalaq claimed that the spirits were unhappy with the commercialization of sacred holidays and the division of the Poles. He started a civil war over it and even got the avatar on his side, a move that sent a rift through the world as those who already felt that they did not need the avatar moved further away from viewing her as any kind of authority.

Then we find out that Unalaq is using waterbending to control some very generic spirits into senseless violence. This signals to me that the spirits don’t actually care about what’s going on and THAT’S a problem because the spirits DO care. As late as Aang’s teenage years, spirits still express rage against humans for not respecting their space. General Old Iron ( who Aang had to murder to get him to calm down), The Mother of Faces, Hei Bai, the Phoenix Eels, the Heartwalker, etc are all sprits that live or lived in the human world and expressed rage at humans’ sacrilege. That’s without mentioning Father Glowworm and Koh who were just dicks.

The point is that Unalaq could have had a very legitimate point about the spirits being upset but the question could be, how far is too far. Spirits also aren’t big on communication with anyone who isn’t the avatar, so Unalaq interpreting the will of the spirits could be wrong, either intentionally or accidentally, a fanatic seeing signs from the gods that drive him to murder. Him being the cause of their rage robs us of an interesting story about a religious divide when the religion is indisputably real.

Varrick was a war profiteer. 

Look, I like goofy characters too, but I hate this trend of making characters idiot savants. Varrick was a super goofy guy until we find out exactly what is going on with him. It is revealed that Varrick is much more cold and calculating than everyone thought, playing fast and loose with lives as it suited him. I feel like that aspect of his character was lost in favour of making him entirely a meme.

A similar thing was done to Bumi, Aang’s son. We learn that he’s a venerated war hero with an unconventional way of doing things. Instead of keeping that narrative the truth, they made it so that he was just lucky. That his victories were accidents. I think it was a lost chance to make more interesting characters like Iroh. It isn’t that Iroh is putting on a mask, he genuinely is a bumbling old man who just wants to play Pai Sho and drink tea, but when the going gets tough, The Dragon of the West emerges; both are true. Bumi could be as loony as his namesake, but also a competent strategist when the need called fo rit.  

The Red Lotus plot was all silly. No notes.

Book 4 was almost a return to form. Kuvira had a legitimate goal and harsh methods for achieving it. The unification of the Earth Kingdom was believable as a goal someone would want and that others would be opposed to and her methods while barbaric, were effective. Then they dropped that for favour of making her just evil.

I said in my previous post that the avatar is too powerful for their stories to ever revolve around a fight. 

Kyoshi’s story was never IF she could beat Yun, but if she could do so 1) emotionally, and 2) without flattening the continent. Yangchen’s story is a political one. Obviously she could kill the zongdus and force the shangs to obey her through fear, but that’s not sustainable or moral. Even Kuruk’s story is about his battle with depression and the weight of what he had to do, killing a spirit is easy work for an avatar. 

The Legend of Korra opened with Korra entering a world where she was not needed. There have always been people who claimed not to want the avatar, even in Aang’s lifetime, but now the world is relatively at peace and everything she does seems to make things worse. They kept this theme up somewhat by showing her miserable every so often, but they shied away from the political and social implications of what amounts to a herald of the gods walking amongst humans.